Defining Connection
by Phenyx
Summary: Due South Crossover. Each of us is defined by our connections to others. Those connections are built of friendship, partnership or love. Jarod and Miss Parker meet a series of people whose connections will help define their own. Finally Finally CH 11
1. Rebellion

**Disclaimer**: Rights to The Pretender world and all its characters belong to creators Craig Van Sickle and Steven Mitchell. NBC owns a share, as do Twentieth Century Fox and MGM.

Due South was created by Paul Haggis and produced by Alliance Atlantis, BBC, CTV television and Pro Sieben Media. It's a wonderful show, mixing action and humor together into a delightfully quirky detective drama. If you've never seen it, I highly recommend the DVDs.

The point is I'm borrowing someone else's creations. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **Here's a story I've been mulling over for weeks. It is my first crossover attempt. Focusing on more characters than I usually do may cause this tale to become rather lengthy, but I hope to make it enjoyable for those Pretender fans that may not know of Due South. Be warned – though Due South had many serious moments and complex characters, the show was often a playful romp through unlikely circumstances. (Think of any Pretender episode with Argyle in it and you'll get the idea.) As a result, I don't intend for this story to be as dark or as angst ridden as some of my other stuff. I hope you like it.

* * *

**Defining Connection 1**  
By Phenyx  
04/30/2006

Fury emanated from Miss Parker's body in almost visible waves. She moved down the hallway in long, distance-devouring strides. The heels of her shoes clicked sharply against the tiles beneath her creating a rapid staccato of sound. When she reached the elevators, she uncrossed her arms only long enough to jab at the call button with a perfectly manicured nail before returning to her tightly wrapped stance.

Her steel-blue eyes glared daggers of ice and she wore a mask of haughty indifference. Yet anyone seeing her would have been able to feel the tension nearly shaking her body. She battled with her rage, reining it in as much as she could. She did not want Raines to know that he was pushing her over the edge. She did not want Lyle to know how close to that edge she had gotten.

The lift arrived and Miss Parker stepped into it. She allowed the doors to close behind her before leaning forward with a hiss. One hand pressed to her stomach, she breathed deeply in an attempt to banish the pain out of sheer will.

Her ulcers were coming back. And they were back in full force.

"You need to relax Miss Parker," Sydney had advised several weeks ago.

"No shit, Sherlock," she had snarled in reply. "You try to unwind with the thumb-less wonder and his zombie benefactor watching your every move."

The last half-year had been excruciating. It had been nearly six months since Miss Parker had watched the only father she had ever known leap his death. His body had been recovered days later. Within a week, Mr. Parker had been buried and Miss Parker's memories of a loving father had been buried with him.

Since then, life at the Centre had taken on a nightmarish quality. Miss Parker was trapped in a game where she was only vaguely aware of the rules. She stubbornly fought Raines at every opportunity. He in turn humiliated her, degraded her and belittled her as much as he could. Most of the time, Miss Parker was able to thwart both Raines and her brother by smiling coyly at them. Giving the other men the impression that she knew more than they, or something they did not know she knew, worked to her advantage.

And yet, living like this was exhausting. Miss Parker was playing their game, by their rules. She knew she could not hope to win. In fact, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

Jarod's words whispered back to her. "Winning their way isn't the answer," he'd said. He had called just hours before the scheduled flight that brought her to Africa. "The only way to beat them is to join them."

"You think I can't handle it?" Miss Parker had growled.

"No," Jarod had replied sadly. "You still have a soul, Miss Parker. Your humanity prevents you from sinking to their level."

Miss Parker had scoffed and hung up on him. But Jarod's words had stayed with her ever since. The meetings at the Triumvirate compound, attended by Miss Parker, Lyle and Raines, had made the pretender's words all the more poignant. The Triumvirate council was wary of her, unsure of the knowledge Miss Parker held. Raines did his best to play them against her whenever possible.

God, but she hated them. She hated them all. She hated the politics and the backstabbing. She hated Lyle's smarmy grin and was chilled by his innuendo. She hated Raines' empty promises and his constant struggle for power. She hated the looks cast upon her by the Triumvirate members. She hated their condescending tones.

Suddenly the thought of continuing this charade for another week was unbearable. Miss Parker felt a sharp urge to go, just go as far away as fast as she could. As the thought took hold in her mind, Miss Parker felt an evil smile spread across her face. Leaving the compound without permission was not allowed. If she were to ignore Raines' wishes and take off on a pleasure jaunt, it would be an incredibly effective snub of his authority.

Miss Parker hurried to the embarrassingly small office she had been assigned during her stay in Africa and began throwing her personal items into a briefcase. Within moments she was retracing her steps in the corridor. As she blew by the receptionist, Miss Parker said sweetly, "Mark, I'm leaving for the day. Please cancel any appointments I may have on my calendar."

"Yes Miss Parker," the thin blond man responded. "For what day should I reschedule?"

"Don't bother," she smiled. "Anything important can be done via teleconference to my office in Delaware."

The young man was still sputtering when Miss Parker heard her brother's voice. "Going somewhere, Sis?"

Her sugary sweet smile never wavered. "I would think you'd be glad to be rid of me, Brother dear."

"Dad won't like it," Lyle replied.

"I don't care what Raines likes. I need a few days to myself."

Lyle smiled his most disarming smile. Miss Parker was not affected. "Headed to the London house perhaps?"

Miss Parker pretended to ponder that idea. As a matter of fact, she had already considered it but now tossed that option aside. "No," she said carelessly. "I think I'll do some shopping. Paris is nice this time of year and I haven't been to Etienne's in ages."

Both twins understood the underlying menace in Miss Parker's seemingly innocuous words. For her to cast aside the Triumvirate's wishes, to ignore the summons they had placed before her, was dangerous. But Miss Parker knew that they needed her, just as they needed Jarod. She didn't know why, simply used that knowledge to her benefit.

"Paris in the springtime can be fraught with danger for a single woman," Lyle warned.

Miss Parker refused to rise to the bait. "I haven't been shoe shopping in Milan since I transferred from corporate. And Lord knows the Lab-rat has not been good to my Ferragamos." She shrugged. "I'll decide where I'm going when I get to the airport."

Lyle was staring at her with a stunned expression as Miss Parker breezed past him and stepped onto the elevator. She waved prettily as the doors slid shut between them. The genuine smile that graced Parker's lips was the first in many months. It felt really good, rebelling against those who wanted to control her.

A vacation was exactly what Miss Parker felt she needed. It never occurred to her that she could leave permanently. The possibility of never seeing her psychotic brother again did not dawn upon her Centre-trained mind. That seed of thought would not begin to grow until Jarod planted it many days later.

-

New York was the destination Miss Parker finally chose. The Big Apple was unequalled in its designer shopping boutiques. Anything Miss Parker could dream of looking for could be found in that city's high priced stores. New York's relative proximity to Delaware meant shipping packages home would be less hassle. The fact that it would take three separate planes to get from Triumvirate headquarters to New York meant Miss Parker would be more difficult to follow.

It had seemed the perfect solution.

Embarking on the final leg of her journey, Miss Parker closed her eyes and sighed. She was not particularly fond of commercial flights. Even in first class, she found herself annoyed by the crush of humanity in the coach class seats. There always seemed to be a child wailing in some part of the plane. The hum of the engines beneath her feet seemed deafening, for there was no sound proofing on these planes like that she'd taken for granted on the Centre's private jet.

The airplane lifted from the tarmac and Miss Parker gritted her teeth through the safety presentation. Sometimes she felt as though she would scream the very next time she was told, "In the unlikely event of a water landing, your seat cushion may be used as a flotation device." As if crashing into the ocean from 39,000 feet would leave anyone alive to worry about the straps under one's butt.

Finally, the uniformed Vanna White finished the spiel about what to do during a loss in cabin pressure. The plane reached cruising altitude and the flight attendant began the beverage service. "Single malt, no ice," Miss Parker ordered. The one great positive to flying a commercial airline, one could spend the flight with a nice alcohol-induced buzz without disapproving frowns from nosy psychiatrists.

Miss Parker was only halfway through her first drink before waving her hand in the air for her second. The pretty blond flight attendant gracefully switched Miss Parker's empty glass for the new one within moments. "Is there anything else I can get you ma'am?" the girl asked.

"Another," Miss Parker shook her glass meaningfully. "And I'd like a copy of the Times if you have it."

"Of course," the flight attendant answered. "But I'm afraid it is yesterday's edition."

"That's fine," Miss Parker dismissed the girl with a wave.

Sipping gently at her third drink, Miss Parker began to flip through the New York Times newspaper. She'd been in Africa for more than a week and wanted to catch up on things in the States. She really didn't care that much, it was just force of habit that made her skim through the pages.

She was on one of the inner sections, paging through the local news, when Miss Parker abruptly froze. Turning back one page she stared at the black and white photograph at the top of the page. "City officials connected to organized crime", the headline read. The story was your typical government scandal, abuse of power, selling to the highest bidder, type of stuff. It held no interest for Miss Parker.

It was the picture that had caught her attention.

The photo was of two men making their way through a crowd on the courthouse steps. One man, undoubtedly the official, was attempting to hide his face behind his overcoat. The other man was a grizzled older fellow whose clothes and attitude reeked of money and power. Around this man were several large, dark-suited bodyguards. Miss Parker recognized their purpose easily for they looked like every sweeper team she had ever used.

One of the bodyguards located at the very edge of the photo, stood with his back to the camera. He held one arm out in front of him to part the crowd for his master. Miss Parker could see the broad shoulders and the well-tailored cut of his jacket. She could also see the bulge of the gun holstered beneath his ribs.

No part of the guard's face appeared in the image. There was nothing to see but his wide back and narrow waist. Yet Miss Parker still recognized him. She would know that form anywhere. After all, she _had _spent the last six and a half years watching that back retreat as she tried desperately to catch it.

Jarod had cut his hair. Miss Parker registered the fact almost absently. The longish, slicked back look he'd worn on Carthis was gone. In its place was a run-of-the-mill businessman's cut.

Miss Parker read the accompanying article three times. Evidently, the photo had been taken two days ago in downtown New York. A city councilman had been caught taking payoffs from a known mafia connection. That Jarod was involved was a given, but all evidence had come from an anonymous source. If the picture was to be believed, Jarod was working as part of the mob leader's protection detail. No one knew that Jarod was the informant – no one but Miss Parker.

Miss Parker shook her head in wry amusement. "Every time," she whispered to the newsprint. "Every time I purposely stop searching for him, the little cretin falls right into my lap." Jarod was still in New York. Miss Parker knew it without a doubt.

In a little over ten hours, Miss Parker would be there too.

**End part 1**


	2. Victoria

**Disclaimer**: Rights to The Pretender world and all its characters belong to creators Craig Van Sickle and Steven Mitchell. NBC owns a share, as do Twentieth Century Fox and MGM.

Due South was created by Paul Haggis and produced by Alliance Atlantis, BBC, CTV television and Pro Sieben Media. It's a wonderful show, mixing action and humor together into a delightfully quirky detective drama. If you've never seen it, I highly recommend the DVDs.

The point is I'm borrowing someone else's creations. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Defining Connection 2**  
By Phenyx  
05/08/2006 

-

Jarod tossed a peanut in the air. As gravity exerted its force upon the nut, it made an arch over Jarod's head and began to fall. He easily caught the peanut in his mouth and crunched down.

"Thirty-two," Jarod said to no one in particular.

The tavern around him wasn't crowded. There were only about a dozen patrons sitting at tables or booths around the room. Jarod was alone at the bar except for the bartender, Ken. But that grizzled ex-con was at the far end washing glasses.

Jarod continued to heft nuts into the air. The exercise wasn't as easy as it looked. It had taken him several days to get the hang of it. But now that Jarod had mastered this new skill, he found that it worked just as well with any food item. Nuts, popcorn, pretzels, anything bite-sized served the same purpose.

When he got to fifty, Jarod stopped playing with the peanuts and took a small sip from his beer bottle. The beer was warm and tasted like old socks. In Jarod's opinion, all beer tasted like someone had been washing socks in it. But this wasn't the kind of place where he could drink Dr. Pepper and still fit in. So for the sake of the pretend, he always ordered a beer and nursed it for as long as possible.

Jarod spun lazily on the stool he sat upon, propping his elbows on the bar behind him to look around the room. There were more people than one would expect in a saloon at three o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon. And yet Jarod knew that there were fewer people than had been here a week ago.

The people in this room were all connected in some way to the local crime syndicate. The scandal roaring across the newspapers had these people very nervous. They were suspicious of each other, wary and paranoid. No one knew who had exposed them three days ago. Ever since the story had hit the papers, their numbers had been decreasing steadily. These were career criminals and they knew how to look out for themselves. Those that weren't running were already making deals with their lawyers.

Jarod had hung around longer than he usually did after a pretend. His reasons for doing so were two-fold. First, he didn't want anyone pinpointing him as the snitch. The last thing Jarod needed was the mob putting a contract out on his life. He had enough people chasing him, thank you. The second reason Jarod was still hanging around this place was that, at the moment, no one else was after him.

Miss Parker and her team were at some strategic planning session at Triumvirate headquarters. They'd been gone for over a week and weren't scheduled to return for at least ten more days. Jarod had always felt that if he didn't have to run, he wouldn't. With the greatest threat thousands of miles away, Jarod could afford to be idle for a time.

Besides, Jarod hadn't decided where to go next. Since Carthis, any clues leading to his mother's whereabouts had gone cold. There had been no contact with his father or the rest of his family. And to be honest, the newspapers hadn't revealed any mission that had grabbed his interest lately.

Jarod was bored. Turning back to the peanuts he tossed a few more snacks into his mouth and pondered his situation. For a moment he considered calling Miss Parker's cell phone. But he quickly discarded the idea. There was no telling what meeting she was in or which Triumvirate members she conversing with at this moment. The last thing Jarod wanted to do was add to Miss Parker's problems.

He was worried about her. The strain Miss Parker had been under these last few months was eating away at her. Jarod knew that her ulcers were bothering her again. They were becoming severe with a speed that had him very concerned. Jarod had even begun hacking into the pharmaceutical network Miss Parker used in order to monitor the frequency with which she was filling her prescriptions.

The Centre was killing her. Bit by bit the place was destroying her from the inside out. It had been doing so for years.

Jarod wanted desperately to save her, to show her the freedom that he had discovered when he ran away. He just didn't know how. While on Carthis, he'd thought he had found a way but then Raines and Mr. Parker had appeared and Jarod's plans had fallen apart. He'd left the island of Carthis defeated, without his mother and without Miss Parker.

Only days later, while talking to Miss Parker on the phone one night, had Jarod realized how deeply they had connected during their adventure. "I hope you find your mother," she had told him. Jarod had felt those words pierce his soul. The honesty and sadness in Miss Parker's voice had been reminiscent of the little girl he had known.

"Excuse me." A musical voice broke into Jarod's thoughts. "Are you Jarod Michaels?"

Jarod turned. The woman standing beside him was hauntingly beautiful. She wasn't tall or reed thin. She was of average height and round in all the right places. She had long dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders in a multitude of soft curls. Her eyes were large and green, soulful and pleading.

"Yes. I am Jarod," he replied. He smiled encouragingly.

The woman returned the smile and her face brightened. It was like looking at an angel. Jarod felt something around his heart squeeze.

"I heard that you were Markinson's new man," she said. A frown clouded her face as she spoke.

Jarod nodded in response.

"He's just been arrested," she informed him. Jarod said nothing, yet did not bother to feign surprise. "I guess you're out of a job."

"Guess so," Jarod agreed. He watched the girl closely as he noticed the scent of her perfume in the air.

"I heard that you're good," she went on. "Quick with both your wits and a gun."

Jarod's instincts began to tingle. He shrugged, relaxing against the bar in a manner that masked his sudden wariness.

"I can't pay you much up front," the woman said. "But if things go well, I can pay you afterward."

"And if they don't go well?"

Her green eyes shimmered and she blinked away a tear. "They have to go well," she said. "I have to do this." She swallowed hard. "I have to."

Jarod frowned. The woman had placed one hand on his forearm and was leaning toward him. Her eyes were wide and persuasive as she looked up into Jarod's face. She seemed so vulnerable, so desperate that Jarod felt a stab of protectiveness for her.

"Exactly what is it you need to do?" he asked.

"I have to take down a dirty cop." She took a deep breath and said, "The cop who ruined my life. He tried to kill me. He shot my fiancé in the back and took everything we had. I want to make him pay for what he did to me." She dabbed at her eyes as she fought back tears.

She licked her lips nervously. She seemed so innocent, and yet so alluring. Jarod was reminded of someone, another lovely girl who had begged him for help. Thoughts of Kristie raced through Jarod's head and he suddenly knew that he was being played. This woman was like Kristie, using Jarod as a pawn in some game.

"Does this dirty cop have a name?" Jarod said nothing about his suspicions. As with Kristie, Jarod took the girl's manipulation as a personal attack but did not react to it.

"Vecchio," the woman said. "Detective Ray Vecchio of the Chicago P.D."

Jarod nodded.

"You'll help me?" The woman's delighted smile was stunning. Jarod found himself wondering if her lips were as soft as they looked.

Jarod nodded again.

"Excellent." She reached into a delicate little purse that hung on her shoulder. Pulling out a small card she handed it to Jarod. "Meet us here in three days."

"Us?" Jarod asked as he quickly committed the printed address to memory.

"You didn't think we'd be able to do this alone did you?" she said. "I'm pulling a team together. I've got the plan all worked out. Just meet us in three days." With a sweet smile she leaned up and kissed Jarod's cheek.

"Wait," Jarod called as she began to turn away. "I don't even know your name."

The brilliant smile appeared on her face again. "My name is Victoria," she said.

A moment later, she was gone.

Jarod stared after her for several minutes as his mind began to mull over this newest problem. He would need to book a flight to O'Hare, could probably be in Chicago in just a few hours. But first he would need to hack into the Chicago Police Department's personnel database. He needed to know more about this Vecchio.

"She's got a nice ass," said a familiar voice. "Could be working it better though."

Jarod froze.

"If she's going to use her looks to jerk a guy around by the zipper, the least she could do is wear a tighter sweater." Miss Parker's tone was as hard and bitter as Jarod had ever heard. "Too many people underestimate the power of good cleavage."

Turning slowly, Jarod buried his surprise under a look of bored amusement. He smiled. "I never underestimate anything, Miss Parker." Grinning insolently, Jarod made a point of looking at Miss Parker's chest as he spoke.

"Liar." Miss Parker hissed. "Let's go, Jarod. Time to come home like a good little lab rat."

"No."

"No?" Miss Parker sputtered. "Move it before I put a cap in your ass."

Jarod smiled again, knowing that it would annoy her. His thoughts raced to find a way out of this predicament. "The people here know me, Miss Parker. They don't know you. And every single one of them is packing." He crossed his arms and leaned against the bar. "What do you suppose is going to happen if you pull a gun on me now?"

Miss Parker growled in frustration.

Something in Miss Parker's face, in her body language, made Jarod frown. "You look tired," he said, allowing true concern to color his tone.

Angry steel-blue eyes glared at him. "I'm fine," she hissed. "I'll be better when we get back to Delaware."

"But you aren't supposed to be in Delaware," Jarod pointed out. "You're supposed to be at the Triumvirate compound."

Miss Parker sighed and rubbed at her forehead. She didn't bother to ask him how he knew where she was supposed to be. "I needed to get away for a while," she admitted.

With that whispered confession, Jarod saw Miss Parker's hard Centre exterior crack. He saw his chance and he jumped at it. "You can't keep this up," he said. Jarod took one step forward, entering her personal space. With one hand, he reached toward her but stopped just shy of actually touching her.

"It's none of your business, Rat. I am none of your business."

Jarod shook his head sadly. "I disagree."

"You would." Miss Parker suddenly took a deep breath, closed her eyes and sighed.

"Your stomach is bothering you," Jarod told her. "When is the last time you ate something?"

Miss Parker's eyes flashed open to glare at him. "Do you want me to puke on your shoes?"

"You've got nothing in your stomach but acid," Jarod scolded. "And probably an alcoholic beverage or two. You need some real food to cut down on the acid."

"Like you care," she snapped.

"You know that I do." Jarod's voice was warm and soft. He could see the battle of emotions in Miss Parker's eyes. He stood quietly before her and waited. He silently prayed to every deity he'd ever read about, prayed that Miss Parker would give in to him just a little bit. Her life depended on it.

"Jarod…"

Jarod could hear the uncertainty in Miss Parker's voice and it frightened him. The lost, defeated look on her face was totally contrary to the strong determination he'd grown accustomed to over the last several years. He had to do something. He had to help her, before it was too late.

An idea began to take shape in Jarod's mind, a crazy, dangerous idea that could easily blow up in his face. But his gut was telling him to do it, trust Miss Parker as he had in the past. They had worked well as a team before. Jarod saw no reason why they could not do so again.

He smiled. "Come on, Miss Parker," he said in his most sultry, taunting tone. "Let me buy you dinner before you cart me back to the Centre to throw me in the pit."

The blue eyes that haunted Jarod dreams gazed up at him inquisitively. Miss Parker knew he was up to something. But she also knew that Jarod would never harm her. Embarrass and infuriate her yes, but he would never hurt her.

Her curiosity finally got the best of her. She nodded once. "Why not?" she said. "If I'm going to be rebellious, I may as well do it right."

Jarod grinned. He felt like he'd just won the jackpot. Turning quickly, Jarod placed one hand at the small of Miss Parker's back and steered her out of the bar. Speed was of the essence at this point. He had to keeping things moving fast so she wouldn't have a chance to change her mind.

Nor would he.

-

**End Part 2**


	3. Against her better Judgement

**Disclaimer**: Rights to The Pretender world and all its characters belong to creators Craig Van Sickle and Steven Mitchell. NBC owns a share, as do Twentieth Century Fox and MGM.

Due South was created by Paul Haggis and produced by Alliance Atlantis, BBC, CTV television and Pro Sieben Media. It's a wonderful show, mixing action and humor together into a delightfully quirky detective drama. If you've never seen it, I highly recommend the DVDs.

The point is I'm borrowing someone else's creations. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Defining Connection 3**  
By Phenyx  
05/14/2006 

-

"This is a bad idea." Miss Parker sat on a stool at the breakfast nook in a small but cheery kitchen.

"Come on, Miss Parker," Jarod smiled. "Things aren't hopeless."

Her sharp, angry eyes glared at Jarod with such defiance that it would have been almost funny. Yet the sad weariness that colored her gaze made the situation all too serious. She was slouched in her seat, as though the weight on her shoulders was becoming too heavy to bear any longer. Jarod watched her from the corner of his eye as he sliced a strawberry into delicate chunks.

"This is madness," she whispered.

"It is not." Jarod said. He turned to the sink and removed a strainer full of pasta. "I'm making you dinner, not plotting the destruction of the Parker legacy."

"Jarod…" Miss Parker voice was filled with an alluring mixture of exasperation and alarm.

"Look," Jarod slammed a slotted spoon onto the counter with more force than was necessary. "Why are you arguing with me about this?"

True to her character, Miss Parker's anger rose to meet the challenge in Jarod's tone. "I don't know what you're up to Wonder-boy. But I promise you it won't work!"

Making a conscious effort to back off, Jarod took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. "I'm not up to anything, Miss Parker." He ignored her scoff. "Is it so difficult to believe that someone gives a damn? When is the last time you just relaxed and let someone else take care of you?"

Miss Parker swallowed. "The day before my mother died," she whispered. The flash of pain in Miss Parker's eyes nearly made Jarod flinch.

"Let me do this for you."

Miss Parker looked up into Jarod's face. The hell of it was, she wanted to allow this. She wanted to curl up in a soft warm quilt and let Jarod take care of everything. She was so tired.

"Put it this way," Jarod added with a taunting grin. "Imagine how annoyed Lyle would be if he could see us now."

The mischievousness dancing in Jarod's eyes was contagious. Miss Parker felt herself smile. "If my brother knew what was going on here," she said. "We'd both be dead."

Jarod began to expertly tip the brownish pasta into a bowl. The colorful assortment of food he tossed about was mesmerizing. "They don't want us dead," Jarod told her as he worked. "You and I have caused them plenty of grief over the years. They would have killed us long ago if they could afford to do so."

Miss Parker watched as Jarod poured some pale liquid into a small bowl and began to whip it with a fork. He added seasonings, salt, pepper, sugar and such. He didn't measure anything but instead added the ingredients by grabbing small amounts between his fingertips.

Miss Parker frowned. "As intriguing as that aroma is Jarod, I won't be able to eat it. Two bites and I'll be yacking it up again."

In response, Jarod grunted. He turned, quickly licking a drop of sauce from his thumb as he moved. A moment later a mug of steaming liquid was placed on the counter in front of Miss Parker.

She sniffed it cautiously.

"Drink it steadily, but don't gulp," Jarod instructed. At Miss Parker's questioning look he added, "It's herbal tea made with a grapefruit seed extract. It will settle your stomach long enough for your food to begin digesting."

Miss Parker frowned. "I can't believe you got all this from that dingy little shop on the corner." She lifted the cup and took an experimental sip. It tasted like lemons.

Jarod was tossing the thin sauce over the pasta. "Eller's is a health food store. They carry a nice selection of herbal remedies."

A few minutes later, Miss Parker drained her cup just as Jarod set a plate down in front of her. She looked at it skeptically. The dish consisted of a wheat-colored, bowtie shaped pasta. Among the pasta was a jumble of colors. There were red strawberries, green slices of kiwi, deep blue berries and rich orange balls of cantaloupe. The entire thing glistened with fruit juice and the dressing Jarod had prepared.

Jarod watched expectantly as Miss Parker examined the plate. She glanced up at him with a doubtful shake of her head. Jarod sighed with irritation, grabbed a fork and made a jab at her plate. With exaggerated care, Jarod took the fork to his mouth and chewed.

"It's good," he assured her. "Trust me."

Miss Parker picked up her own fork and sampled the meal. It was an odd dish, like nothing she'd ever had before. The pasta was perfectly al dente, not at all mushy. The fruit gave it a sweet taste while the dressing had just a hint of tanginess.

With a grudging nod to Jarod, Miss Parker indicated her approval. In response, Jarod's face lit up with joy. Still grinning, he loaded up a second plate and for a time the two ate in silence.

Miss Parker was startled when she realized that she had nearly emptied her plate. Jarod was still smiling at her with those dark piercing eyes. With a sigh, Miss Parker pushed the last few bits of pasta around with her fork.

"I do, you know," she whispered.

Jarod raised his eyebrows.

"I do trust you."

"I know," he answered.

Tossing her silverware aside, Miss Parker ran one hand nervously through her hair. "Do you realize how crazy that is?" she snapped at him. "Of all the people in the world… why you?"

"Because," Jarod replied, "Of all the people in the world, I'm the only one who really trusts you."

Heaving a deep sigh Miss Parker asked, "So what do we do now?"

Jarod smiled. He began to place their dishes in the sink as he spoke. "Well," he started. "You've got a few choices. Your first option is to haul me back to the Centre. But then I'd be forced to escape, humiliating you in the process whether I meant to or not. Then you'd be mad, I'd feel bad and your vacation would be completely shot to hell.

Your second option is to walk out of here, take a taxi uptown and resume the shopping trip you had originally intended." Jarod folded his arms across his chest and leaned nonchalantly against the counter. "But that's the dullest of your choices and you'd be bored within a day."

"So what's option number three?" Miss Parker asked.

Jarod's grin grew. "Let me show you a real vacation. Snub your nose at the overbearing intimidation Raines has been throwing at you. Do something completely contrary to everything he and The Centre want from you."

"And what would that be, specifically?"

"Come on a pretend with me," Jarod said.

Miss Parker nearly fell off the chair. "Are you insane?"

"Maybe," Jarod chuckled. "Aren't we all just a little? Think of it Miss Parker, Raines would bust a gut if he knew."

"He'll kill me."

"No he won't," Jarod assured her. "Because he won't find out. I'll set up a perfect alibi. As far as The Centre is concerned, you'll be in New York spending money. They will never know that you were with me. But you will know. You and I alone will know what you've done."

A wicked gleam sparkled in Miss Parker's eyes. "Like when we were children," she whispered.

"Yes," Jarod agreed. "Like when we went looking for the dead body. Like when we hid in the air shafts."

"This is nuts," Miss Parker said even as a smile spread across her face.

Jarod nodded. "That is what makes it fun," he said.

"So," Miss Parker folded her hands and leaned her elbows on the counter in front of her. "What have you got in mind?"

"Chicago," Jarod replied instantly. "We need to find a police detective name Vecchio."

Miss Parker raised her eyebrows at him. "Are we going to do something terrible to this poor Vecchio?"

"Don't know yet," Jarod admitted. "We'll either make him pay for what he's done, or save him from a dishonest seductress."

"That's not much of a plan, Einstein."

Jarod shrugged. "I'll firm up the details by the time we get there."

-

**End part 3**


	4. The 2 7

**Disclaimer**: Rights to The Pretender world and all its characters belong to creators Craig Van Sickle and Steven Mitchell. NBC owns a share, as do Twentieth Century Fox and MGM.

Due South was created by Paul Haggis and produced by Alliance Atlantis, BBC, CTV television and Pro Sieben Media. It's a wonderful show, mixing action and humor together into a delightfully quirky detective drama. If you've never seen it, I highly recommend the DVDs.

The point is I'm borrowing someone else's creations. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Defining Connection 4**  
By Phenyx  
05/15/2006 

-

Miss Parker straddled the corner of the desk carelessly. She gazed around the busy room and tried not to notice the smirk on Jarod's face. Her transformation amused him for some unfathomable reason.

When Miss Parker had appeared at her motel room door a few hours ago, Jarod had burst into delighted laughter. Miss Parker had ignored him and brushed by without a word. The night before, Jarod had voiced some concern at Miss Parker's ability to behave like a "normal" person. She had taken his comment as a challenge.

So now, Miss Parker sat in the bullpen at Chicago's 27th precinct and tried not to fidget. The loose ponytail at her neck felt strange. Her clothes were not tailored and didn't fit quite right, having been purchased off a rack at a department store. Without high heels on her shoes, each time she stood Miss Parker felt a moment's disorientation, as though she'd been on a boat for too long and had just stepped ashore. And when Jarod stood too close, Miss Parker became acutely aware of every inch that he towered above her.

Yet, as disconcerting as it was to be wearing ugly shoes and cheap clothes, Miss Parker had to admit that her discomfort was only minor. Like a mosquito bite, the itch was only on the surface. Underneath it all she felt better than she had in weeks, perhaps months.

During the last twenty-four hours, Miss Parker had slept for seventeen. Jarod had cooked for her twice more, and had plied her with cup after cup of the herbal tea. Wonder-boy could really cook when he got the urge to do so. The food was good, heavily laden with carbs, so that in combination with the tea, it had acted better than any sedative.

With a sigh, Miss Parker propped one hand on the desk behind her and leaned back. The shoulder holster she wore tightened under her arms, but it was a comforting tautness. Her badge was pinned to the leather strap across her chest, its weight rested against the curve of her breast.

A slender girl hurried past in a very short skirt. She was yelling across the room in a voice that could peel wallpaper. Miss Parker watched the girl go by and in doing so, she caught Jarod examining the scantily clan rear-end that swayed away from them.

Miss Parker frowned.

"What?" Jarod exclaimed when he saw her reaction. He smiled. "Jealous?"

"Dream on, Rat."

"I usually do," he teased.

Miss Parker felt heat in her cheeks at the thought that Jarod might dream about her. Jarod's soft laughter brought her head around to glare at him.

"Oh Miss Parker," he chuckled. "I would have never guessed that under all that makeup you wear, you still blush."

"Shut up," she snapped. She looked away. Her lack of makeup suddenly made her feel naked and vulnerable. The hint of pink on her cheeks and the touch of lipstick she had applied this morning were nothing compared to her usual harsh coloring.

"No," Jarod purred. "I like you this way. The sharp edges are gone."

Miss Parker shot him a vicious glare. "Looks can be deceiving."

"A fact of which I am quite aware."

A heavy-set middle-aged man walked up and interrupted their conversation. "Detective Parker, Detective Malloy." The man called their assumed names in greeting. "Step in to my office for a moment and we'll discuss a few things while we wait for my tardy subordinates."

"Anything in particular you wanted to discuss, Lieutenant Welsh?" Jarod asked. Miss Parker sat in the chair the lieutenant offered her while Jarod stood nearby.

The lieutenant heaved a long-suffering sigh. "In particular," he began. "I want to attempt to explain the particular peculiarity of my detective and his partner. Although the two do tend to defy explanation."

"Detective Vecchio and his partner have the best solve rate in the city," Jarod said. "We've come to learn from them, to see if there are procedures that we can replicate in Springfield."

The Lieutenant waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Believe me, Detective, there is no duplicating their singular oddness. I'd think they were succeeding out of sheer luck except that it happens with too great a regularity to be mere chance." The older man shook his head sadly and then went on. "First, you should understand that Vecchio's solve rate isn't due to Vecchio. Well, at first is was but then Vecchio went undercover and was replaced by Kowalski."

"Undercover?" Miss Parker asked.

The lieutenant shook his head again as though the subject was of no importance. "Something for the Feds," he said. "No one understands what those guys are up to. Suffice it to say that Vecchio was solving Vecchio's cases, until the Feds carried him off. For approximately the last two years, Kowalski has been working Vecchio's cases as Vecchio, not as Kowalski."

Jarod and Miss Parker blinked at each other in confusion.

"Now the Feds are done with him and everything is kosher," the lieutenant continued. "Vecchio's come back, though he's currently in Florida looking over some bowling alley real estate. So Kowalski is solving cases as Kowalski again not Vecchio. Of course, he's only been back from Canada for about six weeks and has been having a little trouble with the transition back to Kowalski."

Miss Parker looked up at Jarod and asked, "Are you following this?"

He shrugged.

The Lieutenant sighed again. "Look, it's simple," he said. "You came to learn about Vecchio and his solve rate. I'm telling you that you are going to spend the next week with Detective Kowalski. But that is who you want anyway. Just don't be surprised if the guy answers to the name Vecchio once in a while."

"He was undercover a long time," Jarod said with an understanding nod.

"Two years," the lieutenant agreed. "A little personality disorder is to be expected. Call him 'Ray', that's the safe bet."

A few minutes later, Miss Parker and Jarod were back at Kowalski/Vecchio's desk, waiting for the detective to appear. He was nearly an hour late. Miss Parker crossed her arms and glanced at Jarod.

"So," she asked him. "Which of them do you suppose Victoria is after? Vecchio? Or Kowalski?"

"Good question," Jarod said lifting one eyebrow at her. He glanced around him cautiously. "What do you say we start rummaging through these filing cabinets and see what we can find?"

"If we get caught snooping…" Miss Parker started.

Jarod grinned. "We're here to learn," he said. "We're just doing research."

-

Several hours later, Miss Parker's mood had darkened noticeably.

She and Jarod had gone through every filing cabinet and had delved into the past cases of both detectives Vecchio and Kowalski. They'd found a case file on a woman named Victoria Metcalf. The file was unusually vague regarding details of the case. Evidently much of what had happened had not been officially documented. An officer had been injured, but there had been no arrests made. The dates indicated that it was a Vecchio case, not Kowalski's.

Knowing that they were waiting for the wrong man only increased Miss Parker's ire. They had been waiting for Kowalski to show for over three hours. Miss Parker's patience was wearing thin.

Jarod wasn't helping. He sat sprawled in Kowalski's chair, with his feet propped on the missing man's desk. He waited calmly, as though he hadn't a care in the world. Completely ignoring the near chaos that ebbed and surged around them in the busy precinct, Jarod twirled a pencil around his fingers like a baton.

Every few minutes, Jarod would toss a piece of PEZ candy into the air and catch it in his mouth. With each successful attempt, he would glance at Miss Parker. The first dozen times he'd done it, she'd offered him token applause. But in her opinion, that game had grown old ninety minutes ago. She wouldn't encourage him any further.

Miss Parker was bored, irritated and hungry. Surprisingly enough, her stomach was growling at her and the noises had nothing to do with any pain whatsoever. She was just about to suggest that they leave when Jarod's feet abruptly clomped to the floor and he sat up.

Miss Parker's eyes followed Jarod's gaze and as they watched, a large white dog jogged into the room. The dog weaved in and out among the various people standing about. No one seemed to notice the creature. Without pausing, the dog crossed the room, came directly toward the desk and sat at Jarod's feet. The dog cocked its head and looked at them expectantly.

"Hello," Jarod said to the animal.

The dog barked.

"What's your name?" Jarod asked as he reached out.

"Careful," Miss Parker cautioned. "He'll bite you."

Jarod was already crouched on the floor. "Dogs love me," he said, running a gentle hand through the dog's thick fur. "You're not lost are you, Boy?"

As if in answer, the dog turned and looked toward the doors it had slipped through moments ago. The double doors flew open and two men burst into the room.

"No! No, no, no," one of the men was saying. "I do not want to hear it, Fraser."

"But, Ray," the second man replied.

The first man was slender with a lean, wiry frame. His shoulder holster slashed dark lines across his light-colored t-shirt. He was soaking wet, his wheat-blond hair plastered to his head. He was so drenched that as he spoke, his frantically gesturing arms threw drops of water across the surrounding area.

"No Buts!" He yelled. "You pushed me into the lake!"

"Ray," the second man said calmly. "I'm terribly sorry. But as you know the Illinois Mud turtle is an endangered species and…"

"I know, I know!" Ray waved his hands in the air. "I am all about the turtles. You know that, Fraser. I am seriously rooting for our friend the turtle. But I draw the line at drowning for the cause." The wet man whirled around and began to stalk across the room. He left a trail of water on the floor as he went.

The second man rubbed at one eyebrow with the back of his thumb. He wasn't wet. As a matter of fact, his bold red uniform was neat and clean. It looked as though it had just been pressed. He had a hat tucked under one arm. He was in the full dress uniform of a Canadian Mountie.

The dark haired Mountie hesitated in the entryway for a moment. His deep blue eyes were troubled as he watched his partner retreat. "Ray," he tried again. He walked across the room, avoiding the puddles on the floor without looking.

The first man stopped in front of Jarod and Miss Parker. He glared at them in fury. "This is my desk," he growled.

"Ray!" The Mountie's voice sounded scandalized. "I'm sure if you'll just calm down, you'll find that these are detectives Parker and Malloy. The detectives from Springfield, remember?"

Ray whipped around, spraying an arch of water across the desk. "Calm down?" he hissed. "Mounties in dry clothes do not get to tell me to calm down!"

"I'm terribly sorry," The Mountie said to Miss Parker. He bent at the waist in a formal gesture of recognition. "But he hasn't eaten. I'm afraid that Ray's mood can become rather taciturn when he has missed lunch."

The blond detective moved around his desk and dropped into his chair with an undignified splat. Grumbling under his breath he began to yank open desk drawers and slam them closed in a random pattern.

The Mountie continued without pause. "How do you do," he said. "My name in Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father and, for reasons that don't merit exploring at this juncture I've remained, attached as liaison with the Canadian consulate. This," he gestured to the other man. "Is Detective Stanley Raymond Kowalski." The Mountie leaned over the desk and in an exaggerated stage whisper said, "Say 'hello' to our guests, Ray."

Ray's hazel colored eyes flickered upward. With a sigh he stood and stuck his hand out to Jarod. The two men shook hands briefly then the detective reached across his desk to Miss Parker. As she exchanged greetings with him, Miss Parker noticed that he wore a heavy chain bracelet made of silver. Visible on his bicep, just below the sleeve of his t-shirt, was a blue and red tattoo that looked like a logo of some sort.

A strange whining growl sound came from beside the desk.

The Mountie looked down at the dog and said, "I did not forget. I simply had not yet found the opportunity to introduce you." The dark head looked back up at Miss Parker. "This is Diefenbaker."

Jarod smiled at the dog. "Hello, Diefenbaker." Glancing up at Constable Fraser, Jarod said, "_Canis lupus?"_

"He's half wolf, yes," the Mountie replied.

Jarod crouched next to the animal to get a better look. "Arctic or MacKenzie?"

"Arctic."

"Are you sure?" Jarod asked with a frown. "He's a bit big for an Arctic wolf."

Constable Fraser rubbed at his eyebrow. "Well, that is what he's always claimed. But his mother was rather prone to exaggeration. And his sire was killed in a disturbing encounter with a badger while he was still quite young, so one can never be sure."

The dog in question made an indignant sound.

"Come now Diefenbaker," Fraser said. "I am not insulting your mother. You've described her with far harsher terms on many occasions."

"That dog can't possibly understand you," Miss Parker said with a frown.

"Dief understands just fine," Ray assured them. "Especially since he's deaf and just reading our lips."

"Detective Kowalski!" Lieutenant Welsh bellowed from the door of his office. "So kind of you to grace us with your presence."

The blonde detective whirled toward his boss. The resulting spray of water made everyone take one step back. "Sorry, Lieu," Kowalski said. "But there was this dead guy and he had traces of this white powder on his clothes and we followed a tip from a sort-of-witness and wound up in a warehouse where we found these turtles…"

The lieutenant held up a hand to stop the detective's narrative. "Put it in your written report Detective. Meanwhile, I expect you to cooperate fully with our colleagues from Springfield."

"Yes Sir!"

The Lieutenant nodded once at the group then turned and walked away.

The moment the office door closed behind the older man, Kowalski's body seemed to deflate. He hung his head dejectedly and his shoulders slouched. He had a look on his face much like that of a four-year-old who has just watched a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone and land in the dirt.

"Fraser," he said in a forlorn tone. "My shoes are squishy."

"Yes, Ray," the Mountie replied. "I suggest you go to the locker room and change clothes."

The blond head nodded. "Okay. Then we'll grab some grub."

"We should see Mort before we leave the building," Fraser added.

Ray frowned. "Ugh. Let's see Mort first. Then I'll change, otherwise I'll be wearing morgue stink all afternoon."

"Ray," the Mountie scolded. "The morgue doesn't smell that bad under normal circumstances."

"It's all in the nose of the beholder, Frase." Ray, suddenly animated again, turned and strode away from the desk. He glanced over his shoulder and waved frantically at Miss Parker and Jarod. "Pitter patter boys and girls. We got bad guys to catch!"

Miss Parker looked up at Jarod for direction. "These guys are loons."

"Yeah, I like them too," Jarod answered with a grin. "Let's go or we'll lose them."

The Mountie, the wolf, Jarod and Miss Parker all trailed out of the bullpen behind Ray. No one gave the odd parade a second glance.

-

**End part 4**


	5. Recon

**Disclaimer**: Rights to The Pretender world and all its characters belong to creators Craig Van Sickle and Steven Mitchell. NBC owns a share, as do Twentieth Century Fox and MGM.  
Due South was created by Paul Haggis and produced by Alliance Atlantis, BBC, CTV television and Pro Sieben Media. It's a wonderful show, mixing action and humor together into a delightfully quirky detective drama. If you've never seen it, I highly recommend the DVDs. The point is I'm borrowing someone else's creations. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Defining Connection 5**  
By Phenyx  
05/21/2006

-

Jarod tried not to flinch as Constable Fraser held the door open for him. Jarod didn't like having people behind him, felt too much like he was being escorted through the Centre's corridors. He stepped aside and, taking his cues from the Mountie, Jarod gestured toward Miss Parker.

"After you Miss Parker," Jarod smiled.

The group trooped through the door, the Mountie coming up the rear. Jarod looked around and found that they were in a small morgue. Jarod had seen far larger, had in fact worked in one. Evidently, this was a temporary holding location for corpses prior to transportation to the central morgue downtown.

The room contained only one examination table, which was currently occupied by the pale form of a naked young man. Over the young man's body leaned an ancient-looking fellow with thick glasses. The old man was singing opera, Verdi's Falstaff.

"Tutto nel mondo é burla," the old man sang. "L'uom é nato burlone." The rich deep tones of his voice broke off abruptly and the man began to talk. "Ah, Constable. I've been expecting you."

"Good afternoon," the Mountie said. "Mort, these are Detectives Parker and Malloy, come to liaise with us from the capital. Detective Parker, Detective Malloy, this is our coroner Dr. Mort Gustafson."

"Please call me Jarod," Jarod said.

"Yeah, yeah, enough with the niceties, Frase. Get to the point so we can get out of here." Jarod glanced over at Kowalski when he spoke. The blond man was sitting on a stool with his back to them. He was staring resolutely at the door.

"It only takes an extra moment to be courteous, Ray," the Mountie replied.

Jarod caught Miss Parker's attention with a questioning look. As the doctor began to talk about times of death and a crushed larynx, Jarod noticed that Kowalski was shrugging out of his shoulder holster. Once removed, he hung the leather straps over one knee and peeled the damp shirt over his blond head. The cotton t-shirt hit the floor with a splat.

"Ray!" Fraser sounded positively horrified. "You can't disrobe here, there is a lady present!"

"I'm not lady," Miss Parker said in a bored tone. "I'm a cop."

Ray snorted at her response. "See, Frase? She don't care," he said. "Go on Mort. Tell us about the specks of white stuff we found."

"I've tested it for every drug I could think of," the doctor said. "But it turns out that it isn't chemical but biological."

Jarod kept his attention on the doctor as he eyed the detective through his peripheral vision. Ray Kowalski was very lean, skinny to the point of being nearly concave. But his shoulders and biceps were rounded with muscle. He was the definition of wiry and would no doubt, be far stronger than many would assume. Jarod sized up the smaller man, knowing he could take him if the need arose. But Ray Kowalski would not be easily subdued. Jarod could see the quickness in him. It would not be safe to under-estimate him.

Force of habit made Jarod examine the Mountie with the same clinical eye. Dark, chiseled good looks made Benton Fraser the more noticeable of the two men. The bright red uniformed helped too. The broad shoulders and tight straps of the tunic forced perfect posture, Jarod knew from experience. But somehow he felt that the Mountie's rigid spine had little to do with his attire. Benton Fraser was as tightly pressed and stiffly starched as his uniform. There was little of the man underneath that was permitted to shine through.

"Look here," the doctor was saying. He guided them to a microscope where Fraser looked through the lenses first.

"Ray," he said with a frown. "You should look at this."

"S'okay, Frase," Ray said with his back still to them. "You look enough for both of us."

Fraser shrugged and said in explanation, "Ray doesn't like the morgue."

"Why on earth not?" Miss Parker said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's just like being at the amusement park."

Jarod grinned. Miss Parker was blending into her role with an ease that made Jarod a little uncomfortable. He didn't like being reminded that she had the same pretender marker in her blood that he did. But he couldn't suppress the flash of pride that he felt at her abilities.

Mentally shaking himself, Jarod turned to Kowalski and said. "I would think that an aversion to death would have kept you from pursuing a career in law enforcement."

Ray frowned and looked up at Jarod from his stool. "An aversion?" he asked. "Are you from Canada?"

Jarod blinked at the abrupt change in topic. "No. Delaware, why?"

"Nothin'," Ray said with a shake of the head. "I have no _aversion_," he stressed the word. "To death. Dead guy splatted on the sidewalk, no prob. Knifed pirate tossed on the hood of a car, so what? Bullet-riddled d.b sprawled in the gutter, I've seen it all. No sweat." Ray reached over his shoulder and pointed at the examination table. "But you put a human being on a metal slab, slice him up like a damn Thanksgiving turkey so that you can lay his guts out for display… that's just unnatural."

"What do you make of this, Detective Malloy?" Constable Fraser guided Jarod toward the microscope.

"Please call me Jarod," he said automatically. Jarod peered at the sample and tried to identify what he was looking at.

"When we saw the white powder on the guy's shirt," Ray was saying. "We thought cocaine, right? Heroin maybe."

Constable Fraser spoke the next sentence. "But the texture was wrong. And the taste reminds me of caribou."

"Rhino," Jarod recognized what he was looking at. "Black Rhino. Poachers kill them for their horns. Powdered rhino horn can sell for as much as 54 grand per kilo."

Ray whistled.

"Rhino horn is highly valued in certain parts of the world for medicinal and cultural reasons," Jarod explained. "In the Far East, especially China, people believe the powdered horn can be used as medicine to reduce fever."

"I suggest we go to Chinatown and ask a few questions," Fraser said.

Ray nodded as he bent to retrieve his wet shirt. "Yeah. It's a plan." He stood. "It will take some legwork to canvas the entire neighborhood. But Frase speaks the language so we usually have better luck down there than most cops."

"I speak a couple of the dialects," Jarod offered.

"You speak Chinese?" Ray asked.

"Doesn't everyone?" Miss Parker chipped in.

Ray frowned and looked from Jarod to Miss Parker and back again. "How did you know what powdered rhino looks like under a microscope? And why do you both speak Chinese? That's just weird."

Jarod smiled his most disarming smile. "I worked for the WWF a few years back."

Ray's frown grew. "What does wrestling have to do with anything?"

"The World Wildlife Foundation, Ray," Fraser said. "The black rhino is an endangered species."

The blond detective went very still for a moment. "That's no coincidence, Frase. Endangered turtles this morning, and rhinos this afternoon, this is connected somehow."

"That would seem to be likely, Ray," the Mountie agreed.

"Right." Ray tossed his holster over one shoulder and headed for the doors. "Let's go. Hey, while we're in Chinatown we can grab lunch at that place with the noodles. You know the place, Frase. The one by the thing."

"Yes, Ray. Mr. Woo's does have very good noodles."

"Greatness," Ray said. "I'm starved." The detective swung into the corridor with only a moment's glance at his partner.

Jarod saw the non-verbal exchange between the two men. A quick look at Miss Parker told him that she had seen it too. It made Jarod more than a bit anxious.

-

Ray opened his locker and tossed in his wet shirt. He hauled out the gym bag that carried his change of clothes. Working with a crazy mountie for more than two years had taught Ray the wisdom of having extra clothing around.

Ray was unbuttoning his jeans and toeing off his shoes simultaneously when Fraser walked up behind him. "Where are they?" Ray asked without preamble.

"I left them with Francesca to properly equip them with a pass for parking privileges."

"Greatness," Ray snorted. "We'll rescue them as soon as I'm changed."

Fraser rubbed one knuckle over his brow. "Yes well," the Mountie began. "Francesca did seem quite enamored with Detective Malloy."

"Whatever," Ray said. He was wearing only boxer shorts as he sat down to peel off his soggy socks. "I want you to keep an eye on these two, Frase. Something's queer about them."

"In what way?"

"Dunno." The wet socks joined the wet shirt in the bottom of Ray's locker. "Just something. That guy weirds me out. Watch him and you'll see. When he's still, he's completely still, doesn't move at all. Like one of those bugs."

Fraser made a mental note to clean Ray's locker out as soon as possible. "Bugs?"

Ray pulled on a dry pair of jeans as he spoke. "One of those stick bugs. When it walks, you can see it easy as you please. But when it stops moving, it blends right into the background."

"I did notice that both of the detectives are very light on their feet," Fraser admitted.

"See?" Ray said. "Something's queer. Why would two detectives from Springfield both be able to speak Chinese?" Ray yanked a white cotton t-shirt over his head and began to tuck the ends into his waistband. "And did you hear him call her _Miss_ Parker? What's up with that?"

"Their credentials checked out," Fraser argued. "And both seem to be competent investigators."

Ray slipped his arms into his shoulder holster and jerked the straps into place around his chest. "That may be Frase," Ray said. "But I've got to go with my gut on this one. We should be careful."

"Understood," Fraser nodded in agreement.

Ray pulled a jacket from the hook inside his locker and slammed the door closed with a clang. "Okay then," he said with a grin. "Let's go catch bad guys."

-

**End part 5**


	6. Common Ground

**Disclaimer**: Rights to The Pretender world and all its characters belong to creators Craig Van Sickle and Steven Mitchell. NBC owns a share, as do Twentieth Century Fox and MGM.  
Due South was created by Paul Haggis and produced by Alliance Atlantis, BBC, CTV television and Pro Sieben Media. It's a wonderful show, mixing action and humor together into a delightfully quirky detective drama. If you've never seen it, I highly recommend the DVDs.  
The point is I'm borrowing someone else's creations. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Defining Connection 6**  
By Phenyx  
05/29/2006 

-

Ray Kowalski drummed his fingertips against the steering wheel as he watched the traffic light. There was a pattern to the rhythm and his head bobbed to a beat that only he could hear. When the light above the car changed from red to green, the car's powerful engine roared and the tires squealed as the automobile shot forward.

"Callahan's has the best burgers in the city," Ray said. He turned towards Miss Parker and smiled.

The grin was so bright, so open that the blond detective seemed to glow with honest delight. Sitting in the passenger seat beside him, Miss Parker couldn't help herself. She smiled in return.

"It had better be," she said. "We never did get any lunch. I'm starved."

"At times, the pursuit of justice must take precedence over personal comfort," the Mountie said from his seat behind Miss Parker.

Ray snickered. "That's Canadian for 'When the lead is hot, you've gotta follow it.'"

Miss Parker glanced over the seat at Jarod. He sat behind Ray, where she could easily see him. Evidently he and the Mountie had decided that courtesy demanded she ride shotgun. Jarod's eyes met hers and he grinned.

She knew what he was thinking. Jarod liked this pair of detectives. He liked the Mountie's honesty and optimism. He liked Ray's enthusiasm and directness. There was nothing hidden about the blond detective, every thought and emotion were written across his face like a banner. And those emotions could change in the blink of an eye.

Miss Parker realized that she was beginning to like these men too. They were good, honest men doing their best to make the world a better place. They were so contrary to Raines and Lyle that Miss Parker wondered what would happen if this pair were ever let loose upon The Centre.

A sudden vivid image of Thomas lying on her porch squelched that thought.

"We're here!" Ray exclaimed. He parked the car at the curb and hopped out. He stood on the dark sidewalk, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as he waited for the others to join him.

"You should switch to decaf, Kowalski," Miss Parker chided him.

"Hey!" The blonde's grin widened. "We did good work today. That was an awesome bust. And you, Parker, kicked some serious ass. You decked that guy with one punch and didn't even break a nail! Endangered turtles everywhere are rejoicing. Bad guys are going to go to bad places 'cause we rocked!" His fists came up and Ray boxed with his shadow for a moment. "Days like this make up for the ones that suck, ya know?"

Miss Parker nodded. Constable Fraser held the restaurant door open for her as though doorman was his second calling in life. She stepped over the threshold and looked around as Ray continued to talk.

"Some days," the detective was saying. "You're just peeling dead girls out of a frozen puddle in some alley, trying not to notice how young they are or that they've got track marks up their arms. Other days, you're arresting some two-bit whore and her pimp for rolling their johns only to realize that their four-year-old kid is watching you do it.

Some days this job just sucks," Ray said. He waved to a waitress, held up four fingers to indicate the number of diners, and continued. "Sometimes this job sucks so bad you can't sleep at night."

"There are worse occupations," Jarod said in a voice low with barely concealed menace. Miss Parker nodded. In her real life, she held one such occupation.

Ray shrugged. "I suppose being the pimp would be worse," he said.

"Or being the whore," Miss Parker added.

"Way to bring down a room, Parker. Jeez," Ray said.

A middle-aged waitress approached them, wiping her hands on her apron as she walked. "Evening boys," she said.

"Hi, Lizzie," Ray said with a grin.

"Good evening, Elizabeth," Fraser added with a nod. "Allow me to introduce Detectives Parker and Malloy."

"Please, call me Jarod."

Miss Parker rolled her eyes. "I take it you've been here before," she said.

The waitress laughed as she showed the group to a table.

"You bet," Ray crowed as he slid into a chair. "Hell, this is the first place we came when we got back from our adventure, wasn't it Frase?"

"Yes, Ray."

Ray continued. "I didn't mind freezing my ass off in the great Northern ice fields. But not being able to get a decent burger was killing me!"

"Ray," the constable said testily. "We have hamburgers in the Territories that are just as good as those you find in Chicago."

The blonde detective glowered at his partner with a frown of disbelief. "Do you know that they put mayonnaise on their fries up there? They don't even call them fries, they call them chips." Ray's mood abruptly changed again and his face lit up with excitement. "But it really didn't taste so bad."

Miss Parker happened to be seated across from the Mountie otherwise she might not have seen the sudden pride that flickered across his face.

"Nothing works up an appetite like mushing across the tundra, eh Frase?" Ray smiled at his partner and gave him a little nudge in the ribs. "Have you ever ridden in a dog sled? It's a real kick, cold as a witch's tit, but a lot of fun."

"Yes, I have." Jarod answered without looking up from his menu.

"Really?" Fraser looked at Jarod with surprise.

Miss Parker did her best not to fidget. Yesterday, in preparation for this pretend, Jarod had told her that the best cover stories held a smattering of truth. The fewer lies they had to tell, the less likely they'd be caught. She'd never before realized how often Jarod had spoken the truth to the people he'd met.

"You've spent time in the North?" the constable was asking.

Jarod nodded. "Not long. I was at Ellesmere for a time. Came back via dog sled."

"Ellesmere," Fraser repeated. "Strange place. Those who live nearby say it's haunted. I understand the science station burned to the ground a couple of years ago."

"Really?" Jarod said. He didn't bat an eye as he lied with the same ease as he'd told the truth a moment ago. "Seemed like a normal enough place to me. The staff I met there were very cordial."

The waitress appeared and set glasses of water in front of each of them. She took their orders and left with an efficiency that spoke of years of experience.

"So Jarod," Ray said as he fumbled with his napkin. "Are you sure you're not from Canada?" He looked up and gave Jarod a piercing gaze.

"Relatively certain," Jarod replied. "Why do you ask?"

Ray shrugged. "Well, you speak Chinese for one." Miss Parker frowned, not quite sure what the Chinese language had to do with Canada. Ray went on. "You use fancy Canadian words like cordial and aversion. And this afternoon, when our perp went out the window, you did just like the Mountie and jumped out after him."

Jarod mimicked Ray's shrug. "It seemed the thing to do at the time."

"See that's the thing," Ray leaned forward as he spoke. "I've never seen anyone but Fraser run across rooftops like that. It's weird." He glanced at his partner. "Sorry, Frase. I love ya ta death, Partner. I'd follow you off a cliff, but you're a class-A freak."

"Understood." The Mountie didn't seem at all annoyed, but instead smiled warmly. "And point of fact, Ray, you have followed me off a cliff."

"What can I say?" Jarod grinned. "I'm an adrenaline junkie. Drives my partner up a wall."

Miss Parker nodded in agreement. "Every single day," she admitted.

Ray sat back and gestured toward her. "Why do you call her Miss Parker?" he asked.

"What?" Jarod blinked at the abrupt change in topic.

"Back at the station, you called her _Miss _Parker."

"Jarod's idea of a joke," Miss Parker sighed dramatically. Jarod was right. Weaving the truth into the lie made this so very easy to do. "I went to prep school as a child and he has never let me forget it."

Ray's face broke into a bright smile again. "Yeah? My wife went to prep school, my ex-wife that is. A Gold Coast girl she was; still is really. The Stella went to Lake Forest School for Girls."

Jarod grinned wickedly. "Miss Parker went to Leysin."

"Leysin?" Ray asked with a frown. "I've never heard of it."

"It's in Switzerland," Jarod purred.

Ray whistled in appreciation. "Mummy and Daddy have money then eh?" He said. "I'm sure they were thrilled when you became a lowly cop."

"I suppose you could say they were wealthy, before they died." Miss Parker met Ray's gaze unflinchingly. "And I'm sure my father would pitch a fit if he were alive to see me now."

Ray squirmed uncomfortably, "Hey Parker, I'm sorry. I didn't know about your folks."

"My mother died when I was very young," Miss Parker said. She kept the tone of her voice bland, almost bored. She did nothing to betray the depth of emotion that churned in her at the statement. Jarod's presence at her side was strong and supportive, though he moved no closer. "It was a long time ago."

"Such a loss can never be surmounted Miss Parker," Fraser said softly.

Silence fell over the table as Miss Parker and Fraser stared at one another. "How old were you?" she whispered.

"Six," Fraser answered. He shrugged and looked away. Miss Parker recognized the avoidance tactic that she had so often used herself. "My memories of her are little more than vague feelings of warmth and safety."

In that moment, Miss Parker felt a connection to Benton Fraser. She understood the stiff, overly polite Mountie and his standoffish ways. The dark-haired man was suddenly an open book, easy for her read, and his deep blue eyes spoke to her in volumes. Those eyes told her an epic of pain and loneliness much like the one she had often seen in a similar pair of brown ones. And much like the blue-gray eyes that looked back at her from the mirror each day.

"Hey Frase," Ray leaned over and put an arm around his partner's shoulders. "Are you okay?"

All traces of sadness vanished from Fraser's face and he smiled at Ray in encouragement. "I'm fine, Ray. Thank you kindly."

Parker fought down a flash of jealousy. She envied the Mountie and the strong affection between him and Kowalski. The bond of friendship between the two men spoke of loyalty, dependence and an unbreakable trust. Miss Parker had never felt that close to any other living soul. Except…

Except that there had once been a boy that she had cared about very much. She had trusted him…a long time ago. Miss Parker turned and looked at Jarod only to find that he was staring at her intently.

The waitress appeared with their dinners, halting the conversation. There followed a great deal of commotion as they arranged plates on the table, passed condiments and began to dig in. The next several minutes were spent in companionable silence as the four concentrated on their food. It had been a long day and they were all hungry.

When conversation began again it was of a much less personal tone.

"So you want to try to imitate us and our solve rate, huh?" Ray asked as he took a swig from his beer.

"That's the idea," Jarod answered.

The blond man took a huge bite of what remained of his burger. He spoke around his food. "Easier said than done. Frase and me, we're like a duet. We're really different, each of us a freak in our own way. But together it just works."

"Usually," Fraser agreed.

Ray nodded. "Sometimes we want to strangle each other. But most times we click." He took another sip of his beer before continuing. "When we are really on our game, we don't even have to talk. We just communicate without saying anything."

Miss Parker shot Jarod a look out of the corner of her eye and dared him to make some wiseass remark. He didn't. But she could sense his amusement just the same.

"There's red ships and green ships, right Frase?" Ray asked.

"But no ships like partnerships, Ray," the Mountie finished.

"So," Ray went on. "You can follow us around all week. Take transposition of everything we say."

"Transcription," Fraser corrected automatically.

Ray waved a hand in air. "Whatever. Take lots of notes. But unless you've both had classes in E.S.P. you're wasting your time."

Jarod nearly exhaled Dr. Pepper through his nose.

For some unfathomable reason, Miss Parker found Jarod's surprised reaction to be incredibly funny. She started to laugh. When Jarod frowned at her response, she laughed even harder.

"Do you want to tell them, or should I?" she asked, chortling with amusement.

"What?" Ray glared suspiciously at them both. "You read minds?"

"Only mine," Jarod replied. A wry grin crossed his face as he spoke. "She freaks me out sometimes."

Miss Parker gasped with indignation. "I freak _you _out? Give me a break." The puzzled look on Fraser's face and the concern in Ray's caused Miss Parker to explain. "Jarod and I have known each other for a very long time."

"I know all her secrets," Jarod teased. He glanced at her and in that look Miss Parker could see the warm childhood memories bubbling to the surface.

"Yeah?" Ray leaned forward. "Do you know her first name?"

"Yep," Jarod answered with a grin.

Hunching over even further, Ray hissed an exaggerated stage whisper. "I'll give you a dollar to tell me what it is."

"Oh please!" Miss Parker glared at them.

Jarod smiled. He leaned toward Ray conspiratorially and flashed Miss Parker an ornery glance over his shoulder.

"Don't," she warned.

Delighted laughter burst from Jarod as he shook his head. "Sorry Kowalski, but if I tell you, I'd have to shoot you or risk great bodily harm."

Ray smiled. "Hey it can't be worse than 'Stanley'."

"Wanna bet?" Miss Parker grumbled.

"Don't listen to her, Stanley," Jarod said. "I think she has a lovely name."

"You would." Miss Parker shoved her empty plate away and folded her arms across her chest. "You think Cheese Whiz is gourmet food."

"Oh I love that stuff!" Ray slapped the tabletop to punctuate his words.

"But Ray," Fraser said. "It is little more than cheese-flavored paste. There is absolutely no nutritional value in it whatsoever."

"But that's why it's good!" Jarod and Ray both made the comment at the same time. A split second later, they all four burst into laughter.

Miss Parker wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the good food after a long fast. Perhaps it was the residual adrenaline rush from their earlier chase. Maybe it always felt this good to triumph over the bad guys. But whatever the reason, Miss Parker realized that she had laughed more in the last five minutes than she had in all of the last twelve months combined.

When Miss Parker looked at Jarod again, he was still smiling. But she could see the concern in his eyes. With a quick nod, she reassured him and Jarod beamed with pleasure in response. He was obviously enjoying himself just as much as Miss Parker was.

With a flash of inspiration and an unusual amount of good will, Miss Parker decided to make Jarod's day. Put the icing on his cake as they say. She turned to Ray and smiled demurely at him. "Say, I don't suppose they serve ice cream in this joint do they?"

At Miss Parker's side, the lab-rat lit up like a Christmas tree.

-

End Part 6


	7. Weakness

**Disclaimer**: Rights to The Pretender world and all its characters belong to creators Craig Van Sickle and Steven Mitchell. NBC owns a share, as do Twentieth Century Fox and MGM.  
Due South was created by Paul Haggis and produced by Alliance Atlantis, BBC, CTV television and Pro Sieben Media. It's a wonderful show, mixing action and humor together into a delightfully quirky detective drama. If you've never seen it, I highly recommend the DVDs.  
The point is I'm borrowing someone else's creations. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Defining Connection 7**  
By Phenyx  
06/10/2006 

-

The wolf was staring at him.

For the past five minutes, Constable Fraser's wolf had been sitting beside Jarod, giving him the oddest look. Jarod leaned back in Kowalski's chair and did his best to ignore the dog. But the creature gazed at him with such intent that Jarod was getting uncomfortable.

Jarod tried to ignore the animal. He spent a few minutes sipping at his coffee and watching Miss Parker in his peripheral vision. She sat perched on the edge of the detective's desk, quietly drinking from her own cup. Jarod had been unable to convince her that the brew would be bad for her stomach. But her breakfast had been eaten along with the herbal tea Jarod had given her. So perhaps it would result in a balance.

Together they waited in companionable silence. They had arrived at the precinct a quarter of an hour early. Ray had promised to meet them at eight o'clock and wouldn't be late for another three minutes. The dog had appeared shortly after Jarod and Miss Parker yet Constable Fraser was nowhere to be seen.

"What?" Jarod asked the wolf.

"What?" Miss Parker asked.

Jarod sighed. "Diefenbaker keeps staring at me," he explained.

"So?"

"I don't like the look in his eyes," Jarod continued. He shook his head. "Brigitte had that same look to her that time she nearly caught me."

Miss Parker's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I was cuffed to a bed. She straddled my lap, stroked my face with the barrel of her gun and stared down at me just like that," Jarod said with a vague gesture toward the dog.

Miss Parker frowned. "Like what?"

"Like she hadn't eaten in a few days and I was the main course," Jarod replied.

"The bitch looked at everyone that way," Miss Parker said with a shrug.

"Dief!" Ray Kowalski was suddenly there. "Leave Jarod alone." The detective set a large Styrofoam cup on this desk and made a shooing motion with both arms.

"Jarod thinks Diefenbaker wants to eat him," Miss Parker said, rolling her eyes.

Ray grinned. "Maybe he does. He is a wolf, not exactly domesticated either." He eyed Jarod carefully. "You do anything that would make the wolf dislike you?"

"Not to my knowledge," Jarod answered.

The detective frowned at the animal at his feet. "What gives Dief? Jarod's okay. Don't give him a hard time."

The dog looked up at Ray and huffed. The wavering growl that the animal emitted sounded like a strange foreign language.

Ray looked up at Jarod again, frowning with puzzlement. "Want did you eat for breakfast?" he asked abruptly.

"I had a coffee and a couple of donuts. Why?"

The detective grinned with sudden understanding. "Ah, that explains it. You had the gall to eat pastries and you didn't bring him any. Dief can smell a donut from three counties away." He leaned over and ruffled the dog's fur. "Cut him some slack big guy. Jarod didn't know. He'll make it up to you tomorrow. Right Malloy?"

"Sure. Donuts for everyone," Jarod agreed.

Ray gave the dog a reassuring pat and then straightened. "Where's Fraser?" he asked.

Miss Parker answered. "We haven't seen him yet this morning."

"What, you're here by yourself?" Ray asked the dog. "Fraser's okay, isn't he?"

At that, the animal made a decidedly rude noise and turned his back on the trio. A moment later, Constable Fraser, dressed in his red serge, came into the room.

"Good morning, Ray," he said. "Good morning Detective Parker, Detective Malloy."

"Morning Frase," Ray said. "What bug does Diefenbaker have up his butt today?"

Constable Fraser swallowed hard and tugged at his collar before answering. "Well, I'm afraid he's rather annoyed with me. You see, Mrs. Haviland's toy poodle is in heat."

Ray started to laugh.

"It is no laughing matter Ray," Fraser said in a tight voice. "Prada is very important to Mrs. Haviland."

Diefenbaker made another sound, something between a yowl and bark.

"For pity's sake Diefenbaker, she's a _toy _poodle," Fraser scolded. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

The dog snorted.

"Well yes, I am aware that you are a predator," Fraser said. "But this is unconscionable, even for you. Prada could be injured. Think of the difficulty she'd have whelping!"

"Has anyone asked Prada what she thinks?" Miss Parker asked innocently. The three men turned to look at her in confusion. She shrugged. "She might be willing to give it a try. Because despite what everyone says," Miss Parker's voice dropped a full octave, turning into something warm and sultry. "Size does matter."

Ray bent over with laughter, pounding on his desk in amusement. Fraser blushed, mortified at the suggestion. Jarod gaped. He was completely stunned. He stared at Miss Parker in complete shock as she smiled back at him mischievously.

"Hot damn, Parker," Ray managed to say between chuckles. "Warn a guy before you say something like that. Do you want the Mountie to implode?"

"Ray, please! " Fraser's face was almost as red as his uniform.

This only made Ray laugh harder. Diefenbaker made a snickering noise as well, his tongue lolling out of his mouth to one side.

The constable whirled on the dog and snapped, "Do be quiet! Wanting to protect that innocent creature from your untoward advances does not make me a prude. I simply will not allow you to ravage that little dog."

Diefenbaker evidently had something to say about that. He growled and huffed a quick series of barks. Then he pointedly turned his back and trotted out of the room.

"Fine," Fraser grumbled under his breath. "Be angry with me." He looked up at the three detectives. "He's not thinking clearly at the moment. I am quite sure he will thank me later."

"Yeah, sure he will," Ray said as he retrieved his cup from his desk and drained the contents. "Need more java," he added, shaking the empty Styrofoam. He turned and had started across the room when a voice called out.

"Vecchio? I have a delivery for a detective Vecchio?" A courier stood hesitantly at the doorway.

"YO!" Ray called, raising his hand.

The young man handed Ray a clipboard and Ray signed where indicated. The courier handed Ray a flat envelope and tipped his hat. "Have a nice day," he said as he left the room.

"Ray," Constable Fraser said. "That was meant for Ray Vecchio, not you."

"Until a recently, I was Ray Vecchio," he replied. "Maybe it was meant for me. Maybe it's important. Besides, Vecchio's in Florida. He won't care."

Ray tore open the packet and pulled out a single sheet of paper. A moment later, the mischievous grin on his face slipped away to be replaced with wide-eyed horror.

"Ray?" Fraser asked. "Ray, what's wrong?"

Jarod and Miss Parker were both on their feet in an instant.

"Stella," Ray gasped. "They've got Stella."

Ray stared at the paper in shock, forcing the other three to gather around so they could read over Ray's shoulder. The note was brief, written in large black letters on plain white paper.

It simply read, "_We have your fiancée. Pier 13._"

"Fiancée?" Miss Parker frowned.

"Oh dear." Fraser tugged nervously on his ear as he explained. "Ray Vecchio is engaged to Assistant State's Attorney Stella Kowalski."

"Stella. The ex-wife you mentioned last night," Jarod recalled.

"Yeah," Ray replied in a small voice.

"Ray," Fraser placed one hand on his partner's shoulder and said, "We will find her."

"I'll kill them." Ray's surprise morphed abruptly into anger. "They touch even one hair on her head, I will kill them."

"We'll find her, Ray" Fraser repeated.

Miss Parker glanced quickly at Jarod. They both knew it was possible the missing woman was already dead. As a detective, Ray probably knew that too. Yet the fierce look of determination on his face discouraged any argument.

--

Pier 13 was closed. A severe storm last winter had damaged a large section of the jetty and the warehouse had lost its roof. Repairs had begun over the last few months but were only barely underway. As a result, the area seemed deserted.

It hadn't taken long to find the kidnappers. Or to be more precise, it hadn't taken the kidnappers long to find them. There were at least eight men, well armed and ready. When shots rang out, Jarod instinctively grabbed Miss Parker's arm and dashed for cover. Fraser and Ray dove in the opposite direction.

From their hiding places behind large stacks of lumber, Jarod, Ray and Miss Parker all returned fire. Meanwhile, Fraser scanned the area looking for the missing woman. Bullets thudded all around them and chips of wood flew everywhere.

"Fraser?" Ray called out as he reached into his pocket for another clip for his gun.

The Mountie shook his head. "I don't see her Ray. They must be holding her in the building."

At least three of the kidnappers had gone down, wounded or killed, when a woman's voice called to them from the warehouse.

"Ben?" The voice called. "Tell them to hold their fire."

Jarod glanced toward Fraser and saw the Mountie's face go pale. Peeking around the lumber, Jarod looked toward the building and saw two women emerging. The first woman was a pretty blonde in an expensive business suit. This was Stella the lawyer, no doubt about it. Behind her, very close against her back was the raven-haired beauty Jarod had met in New York. Victoria had a pistol in her hand, the barrel of which was pressed against Stella's delicate throat.

"Ben," Victoria called. "Come out or I'll shoot her."

Without a moment's hesitation, Constable Benton Fraser popped up from his hiding place. He held his hands out to his sides in surrender. Ray lurched forward in an attempt to grab the Mountie back but he wasn't quick enough.

"Hello, Victoria," Fraser said.

"Hi there, Ben." Victoria's voice was soft and warm. She sounded as if she was greeting someone home from a long trip rather than threatening a hostage. "I know you're not alone, Ben."

Fraser's glance met Ray's eyes and he nodded once. Ray set his gun down and pushed it away, sending it skittering out of his reach. He stood slowly; convinced he'd be shot as soon as he was visible.

"Very good," Victoria purred. "Now walk this way, slowly." When the two men began to head toward the kidnappers, Victoria pressed the gun against Stella's throat even harder. "I know there are two more of you out there!" she hollered. "Throw down your weapons or she's dead!" She smiled at Fraser and said, "Tell them, Ben. Tell them that I will kill her."

"Yes, Victoria," he answered. "I know you will."

"Tell them."

"Detective Malloy, Detective Parker," Fraser called. "Your failure to cooperate is seriously endangering the victim's life."

Victoria yanked on Stella's hair, startling a cry from the frightened woman. Jarod sighed and did as he'd been told. He laced his fingers behind his head as he left his hiding place and moved forward. For a heart-stopping moment, he was unsure of Miss Parker's reaction.

Victoria tugged again at the victim's hair and jabbed the gun into her neck hard enough to leave a mark. With a hiss of frustration, the blond woman began to cry.

"Please, Stell," Ray murmured. "Don't cry."

Jarod could sense Miss Parker's indecision. He could feel her ambivalence toward endangering her own life for someone she'd never met. To surrender for the benefit of this unknown woman was against everything the Centre had ever taught her.

A moment later, Jarod heard a gun clatter to the ground. He felt Miss Parker's presence at his side as he walked toward the gunmen. She had done it! Miss Parker had sacrificed her own well being for another.

Jarod had never been so proud in his life.

-

End Part 7


	8. Trapped

**Disclaimer**: Rights to The Pretender world and all its characters belong to creators Craig Van Sickle and Steven Mitchell. NBC owns a share, as do Twentieth Century Fox and MGM.  
Due South was created by Paul Haggis and produced by Alliance Atlantis, BBC, CTV television and Pro Sieben Media. It's a wonderful show, mixing action and humor together into a delightfully quirky detective drama. If you've never seen it, I highly recommend the DVDs.  
The point is I'm borrowing someone else's creations. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Defining Connection 8**  
By Phenyx  
06/26/2006 

-

Miss Parker's behavior wasn't as altruistic as Jarod believed.

It never occurred to her that she had a decision to make. There was no conscious choice to safeguard the hostage. Miss Parker was simply following Jarod's lead. She trailed behind him, mimicking his actions without thought.

As she came up beside Jarod, Miss Parker glanced up at him. She frowned in puzzlement. Jarod was smiling at her. He practically glowed with affection. He gave her a brief nod and Miss Parker nodded back, acknowledging the action. After all, she couldn't let the lab-rat know she was confused.

Meanwhile, Fraser and Ray had stopped in front of the warehouse where armed men quickly surrounded them. A large burly character with a shotgun guided Jarod and Miss Parker into the circle of men.

"Victoria," Fraser said gently. "There is no need to harm Ms. Kowalski. Please release her."

The dark-haired woman smiled. Miss Parker recognized the dangerously sweet smile for what it was, a mask. It was a mask that Miss Parker had seen far too often in her life, an alluring grin that hid unfathomable cruelty. Miss Parker had seen such a smile on her twin brother's face countless times. She had seen that smile in her own reflection more than once.

Casting a quick look at Jarod, Miss Parker's confusion slipped away. The hard wariness in his eyes was easy for her to understand. With a twitch of his brow Jarod told her everything he was thinking. Jarod had seen Victoria for the vicious thing that she was. He had not been fooled.

"Well now, what do we have here?" Victoria's voice was soft and melodic as she spoke. She shoved Stella forward, causing the blond woman to stumble and crash into Ray. Victoria ignored the detective's growl and turned to look at Jarod. She raked her gaze up and down his long body. "You're a cop," she spat with fury.

Jarod shrugged.

"You're a long way from New York," Victoria said. "What are you, some kind of Fed?"

"Something like that," Jarod replied.

Victoria's arm swung back and she lashed out at Jarod. The pistol in her hand smashed into his mouth with a sickening crunch. The force of the blow knocked Jarod sideways. Miss Parker stepped toward him to help but she was stopped by one of the gunmen.

"Victoria, please," Fraser groaned. "Please don't do this."

The woman turned toward the troubled Mountie and frowned. Miss Parker felt a surge of relief as the brunette's attention was shifted away from Jarod. "Where's Vecchio?" Victoria asked.

"I'm Vecchio," Ray snarled. As he spoke he changed position, maneuvering his body so that he stood between Victoria and his ex-wife.

Victoria rolled her eyes and sighed. She nodded tersely at one of her henchmen who then stepped forward and rammed the butt of his shotgun into Ray's stomach. The lean detective went down hard.

"Ray!" Fraser and Stella both cried out at the same time.

Victoria bent over the gasping man and asked again, "Where's Vecchio?"

"Florida," Ray choked out. "He's in Florida. Won't be back 'til next week."

"Damn!" Victoria straightened and ran her hands through her hair in frustration.

Ray grinned up at her. "Sucks to be you," he hissed.

A young man in an old army jacket suddenly rode up on a motorcycle. He had a rifle slung over one shoulder and binoculars around his neck. The bike skidded to a halt not far from the gathered men and women. "They've got backup on the way."

"Cops!" one of the other men barked.

The young man nodded. "Lots of them. We've got maybe two minutes before they find us."

Victoria nodded once in acknowledgment. Tucking her gun into her waistband she began giving orders. "Put the Mountie and the fiancée in the truck," she said. Pointing to Jarod she added, "We'll take him too. I've a score to settle with that one."

Turning away carelessly she continued, "Kill the others."

"No!" Jarod and Fraser yelled in unison, their cries nearly lost in the sound of several guns being cocked.

Fraser stepped forward. "Victoria, don't. Ray and Detective Parker are officers of the law. The consequences in this state are absolute. Illinois utilizes capital punishment, especially when cop killers are involved."

Victoria glared at him coldly. "That only matters if I get caught," she told him.

"I won't let you get away with murdering my friends," Fraser whispered. "I won't."

Jarod leapt forward, struggling against the two men who held his arms. His body vibrated with rage. "Listen to me, Victoria," he growled. "You harm my partner and I'll hunt you down. There will be no place you can hide. I will track you to the ends of the earth and make you pay in ways you can't begin to imagine."

Victoria smiled angelically. "I can imagine a great many things, Jarod," she said.

"So can I." Jarod's voice was as cold and hard as ice. The menace in his tone was a palpable thing.

The wail of sirens began to rise in the distance and the kidnappers began to shuffle nervously. "We're out of time," the young man on the bike said.

"Put them all in the truck," Victoria cried. "We'll deal with them later."

Within moments the five of hostages were being bustled through the warehouse and out the back door. A large shipping truck stood in the back lot. As the group was forced into the empty truck's cargo area, a large explosion sounded from the pier. To cover their escape, Victoria and her men had set fire to the dock.

As the truck's cargo doors swung shut, Miss Parker threw herself against them. She screamed in rage and frustration as the clank of a lock echoed within the container. Pounding her fists against the wooden walls, Miss Parker let loose her fury. She was still raging when the walls around them shifted and the truck began to move.

"Miss Parker," Jarod whispered into her ear.

Her reply was an inarticulate snarl.

Strong arms wrapped around her chest and pinned Miss Parker's flailing arms to her side. "Miss Parker," Jarod said again.

With a sigh of resignation, Miss Parker's body seemed to deflate. She sagged against Jarod's chest and let her head fall back to rest on his shoulder. "I hate this," she hissed.

"I know," Jarod said.

"I hate feeling trapped." She told him.

"I know."

Miss Parker tilted her head so that she could look up into Jarod's face. He could have made some wise-assed remark at this point, a snide reference to her efforts to trap him over the last six years. But he didn't. Jarod simply held her tightly against him. For a full minute or more, Miss Parker allowed it. Jarod's arms circled her not in restraint but in a comforting embrace.

When she pulled away, Miss Parker eased off gently. She let her fingertips trail down Jarod's arm as she stepped back. It was her small way of thanking him for his tenderness.

Miss Parker took a moment to look around. Fraser was already walking the length of the cargo area, carefully studying the floor, the walls and the ceiling above him. Ray stood to one side, holding a weeping Stella in his arms as he crooned nonsense to her.

Casting a wry look over her shoulder, Miss Parker cocked an eyebrow at Jarod.

"Shipping container," he said with a meek shrug.

Miss Parker sighed and shook her head. "At least the company is of higher quality this time around," she said.

Jarod grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment, thank you."

"It's not much of one," she retorted. "Lyle sets a pretty low level of expectation in that regard."

"True," Jarod agreed.

Fraser finished his circuit of the area and turned toward his fellow captives. "The container is quite secure," he said.

Jarod nodded. "Only one way in, one way out."

"Where are they taking us?" Stella asked with a sniffle.

Fraser cocked his head to one side as though he was listening to something. Then he said, "West I gather."

Miss Parker looked at Jarod and he nodded in confirmation.

"How can you tell?" the blond woman asked.

Jarod was the one who answered. "The surrounding traffic sounds indicate we are on a two-lane highway. Our rate of speed is varying between 65 and 70 miles per hour. The highways running North and South from the Chicago area are at least four lanes or more."

"Seeing as traveling East would take us into the Lake they call Michigan," Fraser continued.

"Been there, done that," Ray mumbled.

"West is the only option left." Jarod finished. "We could either be on I-90 headed toward Wisconsin or on route 5 to Iowa."

"Iowa," Miss Parker grumbled. "Wonderful."

"There must be a way to call for help," Stella said. She jerked away from Ray and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Go ahead," Miss Parker snapped. She waved her hand in the air. "Scream your head off. It will do you no good. We're traveling at more than 60 miles per hour. No one will hear you."

"We can't just stand here and do nothing," Stella cried.

"Why not?" Jarod asked. He sat down on the floor and propped his back against the wall. "We just need to show a little patience. Sooner or later, something will happen. We just need to wait for it."

Ray glanced at Fraser then back at Jarod. "I'm not good with waiting Jarod," he said. "I'm really not a very patient guy. Born three weeks early even."

Fraser nodded. "He really doesn't do well with periods of inactivity."

Stella rolled her eyes dramatically. "You can say that again," she agreed.

Jarod shrugged. "We could sing," he suggested. "I know this song about beer bottles…"

"If you start, I will shoot you," Miss Parker warned him. She sat down a few feet away from Jarod and glared at him with real menace.

He grinned. Leaning toward her Jarod pointed out, "But they took your gun away."

"Then I will smother you with your own jacket," Miss Parker hissed. "There will be no singing."

Jarod raised his hands and announced to the others, "There will be no singing, people! Her royal highness has declared, 'No singing.'"

"Understood," Fraser stood in the middle of the cargo area and folded his hands behind his back as though he were standing at parade rest.

"I can't sing anyway," Ray murmured. He sat down opposite Jarod. "Never been a singer. I prefer to dance. I can dance real good."

"Well, Ray," Fraser corrected. "You dance very well."

"Yeah." Ray's head bobbed up and down in a nod. "But there's no music. Can't dance without music."

"And Miss Parker won't let us sing," Jarod repeated.

"So no dancing then either I guess," Ray added.

Miss Parker groaned. "Is it too late to ask the kidnappers to shoot me?"

"Afraid so," Jarod replied with a smirk.

"You will pay for this, Rat."

Jarod snickered. "Looking forward to it, Miss Parker."

-

End part 8


	9. Regrets

**Disclaimer**: See chapter 1.

* * *

**Defining Connection 9**  
By Phenyx  
07/04/2006

-

"So," Ray said in an almost casual tone. He sat on the floor of the shipping container with his legs crossed, Indian style. "That's Victoria."

"Yes," Fraser answered simply. He remained standing while the others sat. The Mountie seemed not to notice the occasional rocking of the truck as it moved. He shifted slightly as their surroundings did. As a result, Fraser seemed to be completely still, perfectly balanced in the jostling truck.

"She's pretty," Ray added.

Fraser nodded. "She is beautiful."

Ray looked up at his friend. "We're in trouble, aren't we Frase?"

"Yes Ray," The Mountie replied sadly. "Serious trouble. Victoria is capable of heinous acts. There is a terrible darkness in her." His voice wavered as he continued. "I don't know how to stop her," he whispered.

"S'okay, Frase," Ray told him. "Leave that to us."

Fraser lowered his gaze and stared at the floor. "I'm sorry, Ray," he said. "I don't know how to stop… how to not… I still…"

"You still love her," Ray finished for him. "I get that. I do."

"That is insane," Stella interjected. "She held us all at gun point. She has kidnapped us and plans to murder us. How can you still care for her?"

Ray is the one who answered. "Shut up, Stella," he snapped. "You don't understand. You never did."

The blond woman crossed her arms and glared at her ex-husband. "What's to understand?"

"There is love and then there's _love,_" Ray explained. He gestured with his arms as he talked. "A guy gives his heart away like that and there's no getting it back. No matter what bitchy and cruel way it may get treated." He shot Stella a meaningful look.

"You're not really comparing _me _to that psychotic woman are you?" Stella asked.

"I love you, Stell," Ray said with a sigh. "I've loved you since I was thirteen and you gave me my first kiss. Nothing will change that. Not the divorce, not the cold shoulder you've given me ever since. Not even the fact that you're getting married again. I won't ever stop loving you. I can't.

Fraser gave his heart away," Ray continued. "He can't get it back anymore than I can get mine. It doesn't matter that Victoria is a criminal. It doesn't matter what she's done. He has no choice."

"I don't want to love her," Fraser said quietly.

"Because she frightens you," Jarod spoke up. Miss Parker stared intently at a speck on her pants leg. She was only too conscious of his words as Jarod went on. "She is dangerous," he said. "There are times when you think she's as likely to shoot you as she is to smile at you. And yet, you dream of her. You fantasize about touching her hair, caressing her skin."

Jarod's eyes fluttered shut as he whispered. "You wake from nightmares with the scent of her in your nose. There are times when that scent is her perfume, and others when you wake to the smell of blood."

"You sound like a man who has flirted with that kind of darkness," Ray observed.

Jarod opened his eyes and looked at Ray. "The darkness and I are very well acquainted."

"Jarod," Miss Parker groaned. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her lip from trembling. Jarod turned toward her and the look they shared spoke volumes.

After a moment, Jarod's face broke into a slow, sad smile. "We understand each other, that darkness and I."

Miss Parker nodded. Jarod alone understood how much that acknowledgement cost her. Inhaling deeply, Miss Parker shook her head and slammed this train of conversation shut by changing the subject. "What does Victoria want with Detective Vecchio?" she asked.

Fraser straightened as a frown darkened his face. "It's rather a long story," he said. "It takes precisely two hours to tell. Three if we go into the details of my convalescence."

"Give us the condensed version," Miss Parker urged.

The Mountie sighed. "There was a bank robbery. I was sent after one of the suspects. I tracked my quarry with all the determination that is required by the R.C.M.P." Fraser relaxed his stiff stance to rub nervously at his eyebrow. "I caught up to her just as a storm was breaking over Fortitude Pass. It snowed for a day and a night and a day. There were no supplies. There was no shelter. We very nearly died."

Fraser looked at Miss Parker. In his eyes she could see the anguish that he was feeling. "I survived on that mountain by focusing on her voice, that angelic voice. How can anyone so cruel have such a lovely voice?"

"Cruelty hides behind many faces," Jarod told him.

Fraser tugged at his ear and nodded. "When the storm ended, I turned her over to the authorities. She begged me to let her go, to forget that I had found her. She begged me."

"But you didn't let her go," Miss Parker guessed.

"No," Fraser said.

Miss Parker and Jarod exchanged another glance. This was hitting too close to the mark for both of them.

"She went to prison for seven years." Fraser swallowed hard. He stared at the wall above their heads, as if making eye contact would make it impossible to continue. "I'd been in Chicago for nearly a year when she came back into my life. She was hurt and very bitter.

"Suffice it to say that before the ordeal was over, she had framed me for theft and murder. She'd shot Diefenbaker and forced me to betray a good friend."

"Ray Vecchio," Jarod said.

"Yes." Fraser's face took on a far away look as he continued. "Still, I would have gone with her. I would have sacrificed everything to get on that train with her."

"Why didn't you?" Jarod asked.

"Ray shot me in the back," Fraser answered in a matter of fact tone. When Jarod and Miss Parker both glanced at the blond detective sitting across from them, Fraser clarified his statement. "Ray Vecchio accidentally shot me. He thought Victoria had a gun. He was aiming for her. I got in the way."

"My God," Stella whispered.

"The way she sees it, Ray Vecchio took everything from her," Jarod said. "Ruined her plans."

Fraser nodded.

"She's going to kill us all, isn't she?" Stella asked.

"That is not her plan," Fraser said. He straightened again, and his gaze met Ray's for a long serious moment. "She will kill you. She will kill all of you once she gets the chance. But me, she does not want dead. Broken, destroyed and suffering yes, but not dead."

"That's good," Jarod murmured. Four pairs of eyes swung to stare at him. "We can use that to our advantage."

"I don't see how," Fraser said with a frown.

"I do." Jarod smiled coldly.

-

Jarod sat on the floor of their makeshift prison. He had his head back against the wall and his eyes were closed. He was in that wavering in between place that wasn't quite sleep. He could hear Ray talking in rapid whispers to Fraser. From across the cargo area Jarod could hear the soft snores of a woman, Stella. He knew it was Stella sleeping to his left because at his right Jarod could feel Miss Parker's presence.

The truck had been traveling for several hours. There had been one stop, undoubtedly for fuel. But even though they had all yelled like mad men (and women) no one had heard their cries. Jarod guessed that Victoria had prearranged the refueling at an isolated location.

At Jarod's side, Miss Parker sighed.

"Are you okay?" Jarod asked, without opening his eyes.

"Just peachy," she hissed.

"Sorry I asked."

With another sigh Miss Parker added, "I tend to get a little cranky when I've been abducted."

Jarod smiled. "I've never managed to get used to it either."

"Argh," Miss Parker growled softly in frustration. Jarod knew without looking that she was dragging her hands through her hair. "Fraser should have let her go," Miss Parker groaned.

Jarod's head jerked up and his eyes popped open. He blinked at Miss Parker. "And surrender everything he believes in?" Jarod gasped. "Constable Fraser was bound by who he is. His job demanded that he turn her over to the authorities."

It was Miss Parker's turn to blink at Jarod in wonder. "I can't believe that you, of all people, feel that way about it."

"Me of all people?" Jarod asked.

Miss Parker's voice dropped to a whisper. "You're always asking me to let you go, to stop chasing you."

"Do you really believe I do it for reasons of self-interest?" Jarod cocked his head at her. After a moment he sighed, "I suppose, in a way, it is selfish on my part. I just want to see you away from that place, Miss Parker. You don't belong there. The Centre is not who you are."

"Jarod," Miss Parker's shoulders sagged. "This is an old argument. The Centre is the only life I've ever had. I don't know any other way."

Jarod leaned in close. His voice was little more than a breath of air into her ear. "You seem to be doing well here in Chicago."

Miss Parker shook her head and looked away.

"Taking a new path can be a frightening thing," Jarod murmured. "I know that. But The Centre offers you nothing but darkness and death."

"It is what I know," Miss Parker told him. "And I'm awfully good at it."

"But there is so much more to you than that." Jarod reached out, not quite touching her. His fingertips were close enough to her cheek that Miss Parker could feel heat tingling on her skin. "There is such warmth and compassion inside you. You have to work so very hard to smother it."

"No," Miss Parker denied. "You're imagining things, seeing what you want to see."

Jarod smiled sadly. "I have proof," he murmured.

Miss Parker's head swung around to stare at him in surprise.

"I'm still here," he added, as if that statement explained everything. Miss Parker frowned and shook her head in confusion. Jarod continued, "Like our friend Ray, I once kissed a girl and was forever lost. You know that, you've always known that.

Yet you've never used it against me. You've never lied to me or tried to manipulate me. Lyle and Raines both did. Hell, even Sydney has tried something along those lines. But not you, the one person who could have talked me into coming back voluntarily has never even tried."

Miss Parker scoffed. "Nothing I could ever say would convince you to come back."

"That's not true," Jarod argued quietly. "Promises of equal partnership, of collaboration, affection, such offers from you would be very difficult to turn down."

"You're talking about sex," she hissed.

"You've slept with men for lesser reasons," Jarod said knowingly.

Miss Parker looked away. Jarod was right. For years she had used her sexuality as a weapon against other men. Thomas Gates had taught her differently for a while. Since his death, Miss Parker had cast aside her promiscuous behavior, but that did not diminish the truth of Jarod's words.

"I wouldn't do that to you," she said quietly.

"I know." Jarod's voice was laced with affection. "Like I said – Proof. You don't belong there."

"Maybe you're just not my type." Miss Parker shot back, bristling at his tone.

"Nah," Jarod said. "I'm exactly your type."

Miss Parker glared at him. "What is that exactly?"

Jarod's lips curled with mischief. "A little dangerous, a little wild, terribly good-looking."

Realizing that she was being teased, Miss Parker shoved Jarod away from her in disgust. "Get over yourself, Franken-rat."

"I can try," Jarod laughed out loud when Miss Parker punched him in the arm. "But you're asking me to overcome a pretty big ego. I'm special you know, with greatly sought after talents."

"Get away from me!" Miss Parker told him. She hit him playfully several times and Jarod cringed with appropriate submissiveness. "You lunatic," she growled.

Jarod grinned. He could almost see the walls between him and Miss Parker crumbling into dust. Things were getting better, much better. All he had to do now was get them both out of this truck alive.

-

End chapter 9


	10. Ray

**Disclaimer**: See chapter 1.

* * *

**Defining Connection 10**  
By Phenyx  
07/30/2006

-

Ray sat on the floor with his back against the wall. His long legs were bent so that he could prop his wrists on his knees. Because he had nothing better to do, he watched the two detectives from Springfield. Jarod and Parker were sitting directly across from Ray making such observation not only easy but also pretty much unavoidable. They were talking to each other in low tones such that Ray couldn't hear their words.

Jarod suddenly laughed aloud when Parker punched him in the arm. As the talk dark-haired man flinched away from Parker's swatting arm, Ray blinked in surprise. Until this moment, Ray had not noticed it, but now it seemed glaringly obvious. He had been with the two visiting detectives for nearly two days, and this was the first time he'd seen them physically touch one another.

Ray was a tactile person; he knew that. Shaking hands, pats on the back, even the occasional hug for semi-strangers, Ray readily gave without thought. His need to touch probably irritated the hell out of Fraser, who was exactly the opposite. But the Mountie never complained, even though Ray was perpetually within his partner's personal space.

Jarod and Parker also seemed to continually move within each other's space. Like two moons orbiting one another, neither was ever far from the other. Ray didn't find that unusual. A really successful partnership required working together for long hours, depending on each other for their lives day in and day out. That kind of duet would tend to form close bonds.

So it wasn't the closeness of the two that Ray found puzzling. It was the distance, the separation, buried within the intimacy that confused Ray. Now that he had detected it, Ray could see it in every glance, every move the pair made. Contact between them was rare, as though touch was rationed and both were saving up the precious commodity. It was as if there was a line between Jarod and Parker, a line neither was permitted to cross.

"Ray?" Fraser asked, undoubtedly sensing Ray's unease.

Ray shook his head to clear it and tossed his partner a crooked grin. "S'okay, Frase." Ray nudged Fraser's elbow with his own to reinforce his words.

Fraser tilted his head at him in curiosity.

Ray shrugged. With one hand he gestured vaguely at Jarod and Parker.

"Ah," Fraser replied.

Leaning toward the Mountie Ray said, "I sense that there's a story there somewhere."

"Probably."

Ray nodded. "Definitely some history between those two." He paused for a moment and then added, "They may have had an affair, a wild terribly passionate affair, but they had to break it off for the sake of the partnership."

"Ray!" Fraser gasped. "Gossip is malicious and of no value to anyone."

Ray ignored him and went on. "'Cuz sleeping with your partner is never a good idea. They teach you that in diversity training."

"But Ray," Fraser said. "You and I slept together for six weeks."

Ray's head snapped around so fast that his neck cracked. "That was camping, Fraser. We were in a tent, in the snow. That is not the same thing. That is not what I meant. You know that."

"Yes, Ray." Fraser's eyes twinkled mischievously. "I knew that."

Ray nearly sagged with relief. "Jesus, Frase, don't say stuff like that. People may get the wrong idea and…" Ray halted in mid-sentence and turned to glare at his partner. "Fine," he growled a moment later. "Message received and understood, Benton buddy. Gossip is bad. Gossip is mean and I will cease and desist immediately."

"Thank you kindly, Ray."

"Freak." Ray folded his arms across his chest and sulked for several minutes. The others had also fallen quiet for a time so when Ray's stomach growled, the sound was loud enough to draw everyone's attention. "I'm starving!" Ray cried in response to Stella's frown.

"We're all hungry," the blond woman snapped.

Ray rolled his eyes and continued to grumble. "They're going to starve us to death. They'll drive us out to the middle of nowhere and leave us in a corn field somewhere 'til we die of hunger."

"Dehydration will kill us long before we starve to death," Jarod offered helpfully.

"Thanks, I feel so much better," Ray replied.

"Here," Jarod said. A small plastic packet appeared from his jacket pocket. "We can split them among us."

Ray blinked. This Jarod guy continued to surprise him. "Why do you have Twinkies in your pocket?"

"I like them," Jarod answered, as if that explained everything. "Unfortunately I only have the two cakes. It won't be enough to satisfy any real hunger but it will help our blood-sugar levels from dropping too low."

A minute later Ray popped a bite of Twinkie into his mouth. He chased the cake with three orange candies Jarod had given him from a PEZ dispenser shaped like a storm trooper. When all that was left was the taste of sugary orange powder in his mouth, Ray said, "So, we won't starve."

"We won't starve," Jarod agreed.

"We could always re-enact the Donner Party," Parker supplied.

"True," Ray grinned. "But how do we decide who's first?"

Miss Parker smiled that coy smile of hers and Ray tried to prepare himself. He'd seen that wicked grin enough times in the last two days to know that there was a zinger coming. "I say we take the Mountie first," she drawled.

Ray fought back a snicker as he felt Fraser tense beside him.

"Fraser?" Jarod asked, obviously unable to contain his curiosity.

"He looks yummy in that uniform," Parker explained.

Ray's laughter burst forth. He wasn't sure which was more amusing, the stunned look on Jarod's face or the beet-red blush creeping over Fraser's.

Jarod sputtered for a moment and Parker looked up at him with wide innocent-looking eyes. "You have a better suggestion?" she teased him.

It was amazing how quickly Jarod regained his composure. "Well," he answered. "I'm going to have to go with the assistant state's attorney."

That suggestion sobered Ray up pretty quickly. Stella gasped.

"Your reasoning?" Parker asked.

Jarod shrugged. "She's a lawyer. Lawyers have got to be good for _something." _

Stella stomped angrily to the opposite side of the shipping container while Ray, Jarod and Parker laughed.

"Come on, Stell," Ray chided her. "Don't be like that. We're just passing the time. Come on, who would you pick?"

Stella's blue eyes flashed with irritation. "Well, I'd have to pick you, Ray," she said. "Because I've eaten you before."

Ray nearly choked to death. He rolled to the floor and howled with laughter. "Double entendres from my ex-wife," he chortled. "Makes it worth being kidnapped." He grinned up at Stella with unreserved adoration. During the years that they had been married, Stella had changed, changed so much that Ray sometimes couldn't remember the girl he'd fallen in love with. But every once in a while, she magically reappeared like this and Ray fell in love all over again.

Fraser, red faced and uncomfortable, rubbed at his eyebrow with the back of his thumb. "I think this is a rather tasteless discussion."

"Tasteless? No," Ray said. "Just a little hard to swallow."

All four Americans burst into renewed laughter. Parker had one hand over her eyes as she laughed. Stella, looking more and more like the girl Ray had once known, wiped away tears of amusement with the sleeve of her dress. Jarod lay on the floor with one hand to his side as he chortled.

"God," Jarod gasped. "My stomach hurts."

If Ray had not so recently become aware of it, he would have missed the moment. But suddenly it was there, a flash of something between Jarod and Parker. It was a fleeting glance, a flicker of intimacy followed by surprise and a touch of sadness.

"My stomach hurts from laughing," Jarod repeated.

For a moment Ray thought he heard awe in Jarod's tone. It was almost like the guy had never had this happen to him. It was as if Jarod was experiencing for the first time something he had only heard about before. Ray shook his head to clear away the strange thought.

Ray's attention was yanked away from Jarod and his partner when the truck around them began to slow down. There was a sharp lurching that threw everyone to one side. Then they started to bounce and jostle more roughly than ever.

"We've left the road," Fraser explained.

Ray nodded in agreement and stood up, using the nearby wall to help him keep his balance. It wasn't long before the truck slowed even more. The others climbed to their feet and moved to join Fraser and Ray near the doors.

Parker glanced at Jarod questioningly. "Do we have a plan?" she asked him.

"Improvisation," he said. "If you see a chance to get away, take it."

Parker nodded.

Jarod stared piercingly at her for a moment. "Bodies will complicate things," he told her in a firm voice. "But may be unavoidable. Do whatever you need to do."

Parker nodded again, a single efficient sign of understanding.

Ray frowned. He didn't like this. He didn't like the way Jarod said "bodies" and he didn't like Parker's icy acceptance of it. A quick look toward Fraser told Ray that the Mountie was equally uncomfortable with the situation.

The truck's motion stopped altogether as the vehicle came to a halt. Pressing his ear against the doors, Ray could hear voices outside calling orders to one another. Looking toward Stella, Ray told her, "Stay as low as you can Stell. Hide under the truck if you can." She swallowed hard and gave him a shaky smile.

Turning toward Fraser, Ray asked, "Ready?"

"Ready."

Ray's gaze slid over Jarod and Parker. It was like looking at stone. Both wore hard, fathomless expressions on their faces. Ray had a sudden, eerily detached thought. '_I never ever want either of these two gunning for me.'_

A shiver of apprehension ran down Ray's spine. I few minutes ago these two people were laughing and joking and having a grand time. Now they were talking about bodies and Ray had no doubt that they were serious, deadly serious.

The worst part of it was that Ray knew, knew deep in his gut, that when Jarod said "bodies" the only ones exempt from the definition were himself and Parker. The rest of them were expendable.

-

End Part 10


	11. Jarods Advice

**Disclaimer**: Rights to The Pretender world and all its characters belong to creators Craig Van Sickle and Steven Mitchell. NBC owns a share, as do Twentieth Century Fox and MGM.

Due South was created by Paul Haggis and produced by Alliance Atlantis, BBC, CTV television and Pro Sieben Media. It's a wonderful show, mixing action and humor together into a delightfully quirky detective drama. If you've never seen it, I highly recommend the DVDs.

The point is I'm borrowing someone else's creations. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Defining Connection 11**  
By Phenyx  
10/05/06 

-

When the shipping container doors swung open, Miss Parker followed Jarod's example, allowing their captors to herd them calmly away from the truck. She said nothing, focusing all of her attention on the surrounding area, looking for the opportunity Jarod had mentioned. With a quick glance at her companions, Miss Parker could see Constable Fraser scanning the vicinity with a similar alertness. The attorney, Stella, also did as she was told, but her movements were stilted and jerking with fear.

Ray however, was not cooperating. The blond detective struggled and flailed against the two men that dragged him forward. Lean and quick, Ray was able to twist against one of the men and strike a glancing blow with his elbow. The second man used his pistol against the back of Ray's head to subdue him. Ray's resistance abruptly ended as he crumpled into a dazed heap.

"Ray!" Fraser cried. "Are you injured?"

"Nah," the detective gasped. "I'm okay," he replied, though the way he had clasped his hands against his skull as he rolled on the ground seemed to indicate otherwise. When Fraser stepped forward to help Ray, a man holding a pistol jammed the weapon against the Mountie's ribs preventing him from going to his fallen friend.

"Victoria!" Fraser hissed in frustration. The longhaired woman smiled sweetly. She was armed with a handgun but it was tucked into the front waistband of her jeans.

"Yes Ben?" she asked.

Fraser sighed. "What do you want? I'll do whatever you want in exchange for their safety."

Victoria's face brightened as her smile grew. Miss Parker found herself worried by the other woman's ability to seem so intimidating while still smiling. It was a skill Miss Parker had seen many times at the Centre.

"What I want is simple, Ben." Victoria purred. "I want you."

"Fine." Fraser answered without hesitation.

"No!" Ray spoke up. He stumbled to his feet and glared at the Mountie. "No, Frase. Don't listen to her."

"You won't hurt them?" Fraser asked.

"I won't hurt them," Victoria promised.

Something about Victoria's tone sent a flash of wariness through Miss Parker's mind. Maybe it was her inner sense warning her. Or perhaps Miss Parker was simply too accustomed to listening to others lie. But she knew without a doubt that this was a lie.

"Careful," Miss Parker said. "There's a loophole in that promise."

Fraser turned toward Miss Parker with a frown. It was Jarod who explained. "She isn't the only one with a gun. Victoria won't be the one to hurt any of us."

"She'll have one of her goons do it," Miss Parker added.

"Victoria?" Fraser turned to look at her. "You must promise me that no one will hurt them."

Victoria smiled again. "Come with me, Ben," she said. Her voice was filled with longing. "Come with me now."

"You must promise me they will be safe," Fraser insisted.

Victoria slowly pulled the pistol from her waistband and pointed it at Ray's head. Her next words were hard and brittle. "Come with me now or watch them die one by one." As she spoke, she cocked the hammer of the gun.

"Don't do it, Fraser," Ray said. His voice was steady and he showed no fear though the muzzle of the gun was pressing against his forehead. "She'll kill us anyway. She'll wait until you are out of sight and then kill us anyway."

"You'd rather watch?" Victoria said coldly.

Jarod shook his head sadly. "This won't work Victoria," he said.

"Seems pretty effective so far," she replied.

"It won't last," Jarod argued. "You can't force this. If you make him leave, bully him into walking away from everything he has ever known, he'll end up hating you for it."

Victoria shrugged. She dropped both hands to her sides, removing the gun from between Ray's eyes, leaving a red circle where the point had been pressed to his flesh. "He already hates me," she said.

"He loves you," Jarod responded. "He fears you. If you force him away from his life and into your world, he will learn to hate you. He is an honorable man, an officer of the law. To go with you would force him to break those laws. Trust me when I say, a life on the run is not as romantic as popular media would have us believe.

He will resent living that life. He will have no home, no sense of safety. He'll be forever looking over his shoulder. He will resent the one who forced him into that. He will resent you."

"But we'll be together," Victoria pleaded. "That must be worth something. He won't be alone anymore. _We _won't be alone anymore." Her large eyes filled and her lips trembled.

"It won't be enough," Jarod told her. "It will be empty, meaningless. If you had allowed him to choose, if he chose to go with you of his own accord, you could have built something special between you."

Victoria shrugged and gave Jarod a sad smile. "He was never going to make that choice," she said.

"Did you ask?" Jarod stepped forward.

The group surrounding Jarod and Victoria watched the exchange in silence. The two spoke to one another as though they were completely alone. Miss Parker dared not interrupt, for the conversation was fraught with mirrored significance that only she and Jarod could see.

"Did you ask?" Jarod posed again.

"He would have said 'No'," Victoria whispered.

Jarod reached out and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently. "Are you sure?"

A single tear ran down Victoria's cheek. She looked so tragically beautiful and Jarod seemed so intent. For a moment Miss Parker was sure he would lean down and kiss the longhaired brunette.

"He would have said 'No'," Victoria repeated.

"Then ask again," Jarod urged. "Ask again, and again, and again. But you cannot force him. Coercion and manipulation can never be the foundation of a relationship. They serve only to destroy whatever real affection exists. I've seen it happen. I've watched unconditional love wither and die under similar circumstances."

Miss Parker suddenly found herself staring into Jarod's dark gaze. Their eyes held for a long moment. Then Jarod added softly, "It is a tragic thing to witness, the slow painful death of pure love."

Swallowing against the lump in her throat, Miss Parker fought the urge to burst into tears. She shivered with the abrupt knowledge that not only did this man know her better than anyone else ever would, but Jarod also felt more for her than she had imagined. Its depth was frightening.

But before Miss Parker could react, the look in Jarod's eyes changed. With little more than the blink of an eye, Jarod communicated a signal to her. "_Ready?" _his gaze asked her. Miss Parker was instantly alert, shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet. There was a minute nod of Jarod's head and a slight jerk of his chin. Miss Parker understood his instructions as though he had shouted them to her.

When a blur of motion occurred at the edge of her peripheral vision, Miss Parker whirled, grabbed Stella by the arm and dashed for cover. There were shouts and a couple of shots fired. Stella squeaked in surprise as Miss Parker tossed her to the ground. They rolled, changed direction and were back up and running within a few heartbeats of time.

Miss Parker ran, tearing Stella's dress at the seam as she dragged the blond woman by the shoulder. With every moment, Miss Parker expected to feel the searing heat of a bullet in her back. There was the sound of another shot followed by a cry of pain. But as Miss Parker and Stella dashed into a nearby stand of trees, neither of them paused to look back.

-

Jarod hated seeing Miss Parker like this. The sorrow and regret on her face struck Jarod with a physical ache. He wasn't sure when the focus of his words had changed from Victoria to Miss Parker. Then again, maybe it hadn't. Maybe he was just reiterating to himself a decision he had made six years ago. It was a choice he continued to make even today. He could only hope that someday his persistence would pay off.

Jarod saw Miss Parker swallow hard and knew that he was hurting her now. It couldn't be helped. And yet Jarod found a shred of hope in Miss Parker's distress. There had been a time when she would not have reacted to him this way. The fact that she seemed confused and sad actually meant that she recognized the choice he had placed before her.

But now was not the time for soul searching. Jarod caught a glimpse of Ray standing a few feet behind Miss Parker. Over Miss Parker's shoulder, Jarod could see the detective shifting, tensing, preparing to strike. With a look, Jarod tried to alert Miss Parker. As expected she responded to his unspoken warning immediately.

When Ray dove forward, Jarod leapt into the fray. Everything seemed to be in motion at once. Jarod spared barely a glance toward Miss Parker who had grabbed Ray's ex-wife and dragged her to safety. Jarod's only thought was to draw the attention of the men with the guns. He yelled as he fought, hoping the drag more pairs of eyes away from the fleeing women.

For a minute or two, they were doing well. Ray and Fraser had each taken down one of their captors. Jarod had knocked a third unconscious and a fourth was preoccupied trying to staunch the blood from his broken nose.

"Stop!" Victoria screamed. Then without hesitation, she pulled the trigger on her handgun. The shot rang out and Ray crumbled to the ground with a cry of pain.

"Ray!" Fraser was at his partner's side almost before he'd completed his fall.

Ray gasped, clutching at his stomach. "Frase," he groaned.

Jarod went to kneel beside the wounded man. Fraser was pulling a large handkerchief from his pocket and used it to press against the growing red patch on Ray's shirt. "I have some medical training," Jarod said. "Let me look at it."

Victoria turned away from the scene carelessly. "You," she commanded pointing toward two of her men. "Bring those women back here."

"Stella," Ray moaned.

"Hush Ray," Fraser urged. "Don't try to talk."

Examining the hole in Ray's side, Jarod sighed with relief. "It's a small caliber," he explained. "You should be okay if we can stop the bleeding and get you proper medical attention." Shucking off his jacket as he spoke, Jarod peeled out of several layers of clothing until he got to a cotton undershirt. With a quick yank, he pulled off the t-shirt and tore one seam with his teeth. Ignoring the armed circle of men around them, Jarod worked quickly with the handkerchief and shirt to bandage Ray's wound.

Grimacing in pain, Ray gasped. "How many men did she send after them?"

"Two," Fraser answered.

"They're okay," Jarod assured them. He did not look up from his task. "They made it to the tree line." When he was finished, Jarod rocked back on his heels to admire his handiwork.

"You've been in the military," Fraser said to Jarod with a frown. "That is an excellent field dressing."

"Just something I picked up somewhere," Jarod commented.

Ray glanced from Fraser to Jarod, his face a mask of pain and concern. "We have to do something," he moaned. "There's no telling what those goons will do when they find Stella and Parker."

"We don't need to worry about them now," Jarod told them. "We need to concentrate on getting out of here."

"How can you say that?" Ray's hand shot out with startling speed and grabbed Jarod by the arm.

"Stella will be fine," Jarod said. "She's with Miss Parker and they made it into the forest. Believe me, Miss Parker is very good at taking care of herself."

From a distance of about a quarter of a mile, came the sound a gunshot. Ray and Fraser both flinched.

"That means they've been found," Ray almost whimpered in pain and anxiety. "That means they've found Stella."

Jarod shook his head knowingly. "That means Miss Parker is now armed."

Fraser's frowned deepened. "You're not detectives from Springfield," he accused.

Shrugging his jacket back on over his bare torso, Jarod sighed. "Not exactly. No."

-

**End part 11**


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